Mercury's Red Flag
by ellesmer.joe3
Summary: Arya Jacobs is recruited by the telepath Charles Xavier, so that she may play her part in the mutant war with Sebastian Shaw. Her past she soon reveals to them, but when their team is disbanded and betrayed, her newfound confidence will be tested for the years to come. She becomes a source of strength for the ones who stayed behind, but who will be the one to return the favor?
1. BREACH - Chapter 1 - Meeting On a Beach

**hello! ^^ welcome to my story!**

**all the way to chapter 19, it will be the first part of this story. basically, i planned on three parts: taking place during First Class, Days of Future Past, and Apocalypse.**

**this first part takes place in First Class, and will be called "Breach". don't ask me why. i literally have no idea as well.**

**but anyway, I OWN NOTHING OF THE MARVEL UNIVERSE, ONLY MY OC-ARYA-AND HER FICTIONAL INVOLVEMENT IN THIS STORY.**

**P.S. cover photo is courtesy of my wonderful friend, Hannah. if you are familiar with the art website "DeviantArt", you can find her there by the username of Procastiaurus. she has lots of awesome, _killer_ digital works. you should totally check her out. GO NOW.**

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**Chapter 1**

Sand clung to her sweaty legs as Arya kicked up with all the strength she could muster. Though the net was higher up than it was supposed to be, energy from the sun and the crowd's roars gave her enough adrenaline so that she was above it with ease. The ball was right there. Chloe had set it perfectly. It spun, fast, blocking out the sunlight from her face as she hovered below it, arm poised up. Arya brought it down. The ball wasn't caught. The crowd erupted in cheers.

"Arya Jacobs earns The Eagles _another_ point with a devastating spike!" the MC all but yelled into the microphone, his voice echoing loudly across the beach.

Arya grinned widely as Chloe patted her on the back, and as the opposing court glared. The redheaded girl she had aimed the spike at, the one who hadn't caught the ball when it was _so_ close, rubbed her elbows. Her dive had cost her. It only made Arya grin wider.

As the people continued to cheer and yell and clap, the girls arranged themselves once more around the court. Arya didn't let Chloe pass her by without fist bumping her. "Nice set there."

"It's my job, Arya!"

Arya laughed, coming to a stop when she reached the Service Area. It was her service again, and her heart pumped louder when the ball rolled to her. She angled her leg so that the ball rolled up and into her awaiting hands.

"Just one more," she muttered, bending her torso because the whistle had already been blown and she was allowed to serve.

Counting the seconds, her eyes veered to the mass of people watching by the sidelines. All of them either wore beach shorts designed with colorful flowers, no shirts, or they wore swimsuits. That was why Arya found it rather odd when she spotted two men dressed in fancy clothes that were not sewn for the beating sun.; one had short, curly hair and wore a vest over a white dress-shirt and black pants, with leather shoes. His companion was more built that he was, and wore a white shirt tucked in khaki pants.

Arya noticed all these little details within the span of three seconds.

"One more point, folks, and the trophy goes to The Golden Eagles," the MC said, snapping Arya back to reality. "Will they get this?"

_ Of course we will._ A smile crept up her lips and she threw the ball up, high. As it stopped its ascent and travelled downwards, Arya pushed herself off the ground and swung her arm, hitting the ball perfectly square on her palm. The heavy taping around her hand made the loud smack muffled, but it still flew like a bird to the opposite side of the court, and she ran to her spot at the bottom-right corner of their side, poising herself.

She could see their opponents scramble to receive the ball that she had intentionally hit harder, making it fly faster. And obviously it landed harder. Anyone could see it on the face of the girl who had caught it. She was blonde. She had to dive for it, but it went up. The redhead tossed it high up, and the blonde spiked the ball.

The words spilled from her mouth unconsciously when Arya stopped the ball. It made contact with her forearms as its descent came to an abrupt stop and it was up again.

"SET IT!" Arya yelled, already backing up for her run. She was the spiker, after all. Chloe was her setter, and she grunted as she tossed the ball high up the Centre Line. It swerved to the right, just inches from the right antenna, but still fine enough for a spike.

Arya took a sprinting start, keeping her eyes on the ball that was so close from passing the lines. She pushed off the ground, bringing both hands up so that she flew higher.

But just then, a girl from the other side of the net came running up to her front, a scowl apparent on her face in the sunlight. It was the redhead Arya had spiked at, the one who had dived for the ball but hadn't actually caught it. It was a good thing, though, that Arya hadn't hit the ball yet, because her arms were up, and if she had spiked the ball then her opponent would have stopped it easily, and then Chloe wouldn't have caught it. The tables would have turned, then.

But she hadn't spiked it yet.

The redhead was so confident Arya was going to, but she wasn't. So, grinning from ear to ear, Arya let herself sink back down ever so slightly, bending her arm to the side. Her fingers touched the ball, and instead of spiking it, she gave it the lightest of pushes to the left, and it was falling. The redhead in front of her desperately tried to bring it back up again with one hand but it was already too late.

The ball touched solid ground, there was a whistle, and it was over.

The Golden Eagles had won.

And as she stood there by the pole in front of the net, the people watching from the sidelines descended upon their home court. Yells and shrieks of excitement reached Arya's ears, along with her own laughter, and it was enough to block out anything else.

She held her taped fist up in the air as the people lifted her on their shoulders, chanting a steady stream of her name. "Arya! Arya! Arya! Arya!" they went. But while they said that Arya kept her arms up and yelled, as loud as she could, she yelled, "THE GOLDEN EAGLES!"

Chloe had also been lifted up. The widest of smiles lit her face up. "WE WON!"

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The celebration lasted for an hour. There was drinking, dancing, laughing, but only for an hour. The sun was setting and everybody either had to pack up their stuff, or go home. Arya did neither.

She sat on the warm sand by the shore, letting the water lap up at her feet as she drank a cold bottle of beer. The sky and the ocean looked absolutely perfect during twilight, and it was during those few precious minutes that Arya let herself forget about everything else, think about nothing else, and hear nothing else but wave crashing over wave. There were only a few more people left on the beach. Some walked along the coastline, holding hands with lovers or friends or family. Some were sitting on the sand as well, enjoying the view as Arya was.

Her friend Chloe had already gone home. She remembered watching the ginger walk away, cradling their trophy in her arms. Arya could have imagined her planting kisses onto the golden surface. It amused her to great extents, and she knew that she'd be teasing her friend for a long time to come.

As the burning sun slowly dipped out of sight, Arya suddenly felt eyes boring into her.

_"Congratulations."_

She jumped at the unexpected voice, wildly looking around to see from whom it came from.

_"You're very good at what you do, you know,"_ the voice said. Arya's stomach churned when she realized that it was coming from her head. She was hearing things. Why was she hearing things?

_"Don't panic, Arya. We just want to talk."_

Arya stilled, her hands tightening into fists and crushing grains of sand, as she slowly twisted from her spot. Behind her, a few yards away, two men stood on the dirt path that led to town. One wore a vest, and one had his shirt tucked in. It was the men she'd seen watching her play her last point. She knew there was something odd about them. But what could they have possibly wanted to talk about with her?

_"You know what,"_ the voice replied, and it was then that Arya understood that these people were like her. How else could they have been communicating with her _through her mind_? It wasn't natural. And she was positive that they were reading her mind as well, for they were answering questions she hadn't even voiced out loud.

But how had they found her?

_"We'll explain everything later."_ Arya scowled before trying to isolate her thoughts from the probing telepath. But she listened, her interest—and wariness—piqued. _"Just give us a chance to talk."_

Through narrowed eyes, Arya watched as the younger-looking of the men smiled and tapped his temple, a knowing look in his eye. Arya pushed herself up, not taking her eyes off the two gents as she snatched her long blouse off the sand. She brushed it off and slid it over her head whilst walking towards them. It was a pity she hadn't brought shorts as well, but she did not exactly have a reason, then. Now she did.

Arya finally reached them and stepped up. The two ran their eyes down her body, apparently pleased with the sight, and Arya was just about to turn around and walk away, satisfied with the thought that they were just two hormone-filled men looking for some fun, when one of them spoke. Specifically, the one wearing the vest.

"Like I said," he started, making Arya plant her feet on the ground once more. "Congratulations."

Then the other gent spoke up. "Yes, you're quite good."

Arya chuckled, but all she was thinking about really was how their accents suited them. "Thanks," was all she said, still very wary but bent on keeping up her confidence. "So, what brings you gents here to the wonderful beaches of Carlsbad?"

She pulled off a smile, and Tucker—she decided to call him that because his shirt was _tucked_-in—, to her surprise, held his hand out behind him. A metal chair from one of the tables in the restaurants across the beach flew towards them and into Tucker's waiting hands.

He then put it up in front of him and sat with his legs on either side. "We should take our seats, don't you think, Charles?"

"Right." The one in the vest, Charles, flashed a brilliant smile and pulled up a chair for himself… using his hands, thankfully. But there weren't many people left milling about anyway; anyone who would have seen the chair flying across the road were sure to have dismissed it as a figment of their imagination.

_So Tucker can move objects and Charles here is a telepath. Brilliant._

"Now, who on earth is _Tucker_?" Charles exclaimed with a slight laugh, looking at his friend with mock surprise.

Tucker didn't seem at all pleased with his new nickname. He frowned, saying, "Certainly not _me_."

Arya threw her hands up, eyes widening before pulling up a chair for herself and sitting on it the same manner Tucker was. "Well maybe you should introduce yourselves then!" Her voice purposefully dripped with sarcasm, but she was disappointed when the men merely chuckled in response.

"Alright," Charles said, licking his lips before holding his hand out. "Hello, I'm Charles Xavier."

_Xavier._ Why did the name sound so familiar? Arya eyed the outstretched hand in front of her, truthfully not meaning to shake it any time soon. "Arya Jacobs," she replied, pursing her lips and clasping her hands together as subtly as she could. It wasn't enough, and Charles noticed. He paid it no heed, however, and dropped his hand just as his friend raised his own.

"Erik," he said. Arya scowled and raised her eyes to find that he was pointedly looking at her, his eyes flitting from her face to his outstretched hand. "It's rude not to shake, you know."

Arya sent a cynical smile to his direction. "I don't think you'd appreciate what I'd have to offer behind these." She raised her palms outward, nodding at the tape. "You should be happy that I don't forget."

Erik—it was a shame, Tucker was a rather good nickname—dropped his hand, his eyes glinting with something Arya couldn't put her finger on. "We've showed you our mutations, now show us yours."

"I don't think I will." She dropped the good girl act, not very happy with the way the conversation was going. "I'm sorry, boys, but you don't seem to be very good at making friends." Her eyes flit from Erik to Charles, settling on each of them for a long time before finally resting on the telepath. He had a very calm aura about him, but Arya was getting impatient. "So riddle me this: _what do you want_?"

The two men glanced at each other, and there seemed to have been a conversation between the five silent seconds, for when Charles looked back at her he looked to be as confident as he was when he was in her mind. He smiled, leaning forward. "We're looking for recruits."

Arya was immediately on high alert. "For what battle?"

"Not a battle," Charles said, now fully serious. "A war."

"And who _started_ this war?"

"A mutant named Sebastian Shaw." It was Erik, now, who spoke. And there was a fire in his eyes that Arya suspected to be anger. "He and his group called the Hellfire Club seem to be bent on world domination."

Honestly, the whole _world domination_ thing seemed farfetched to Arya. No one, so far, had ever actually succeeded in that goal. So she had to ask, "Are they powerful?"

"Very," Charles answered, this time.

"And what are their odds of actually succeeding?"

"50/50," the telepath said, his eyes sparkling. "But if you come with us and help, those odds may change"—He grinned.—"In our favor."

Arya raised her eyebrows. "You seriously think that." It wasn't a question.

Both men leaned forward, then, putting Arya in a very awkward position and making her lean back; though she smirked, and the two newly-introduced mutants did as well. "We don't know what your power is, Arya," Charles said, his voice turning soft, making Arya look up into his eyes. "But we know that you're powerful, that _you_ hold the key to turning the tables."

Erik shifted in his seat. "Although we fully intend on seeing your powers, in time."

_I'm not that powerful,_ Arya thought to herself, looking down at her hands and biting the inside of her cheek as the dreadful memories came flooding back. Did she really need more people hurt? She was positive that, if she fought in this war, there would be more destruction than peace.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore." Arya's head snapped back up to look at Charles, for it was he who had said the words. "We can _teach_ you."

That was all she had ever wanted. Ever since the accident, all she'd wanted to do was learn how to control them, tame her power. It had never happened. She'd never succeeded in keeping it in control. She had hurt a lot of people when she had decided to take that path. A quick veer off the road, a couple of bucks to buy her gloves, and she was safe. The tape she wore now was only necessary because gloves weren't allowed in a game. But she had never learned.

How would these people, these mutants who knew _nothing_ about what she could do, help her? How would they _teach_ her?

So, after a full minute of fighting internally with herself, she looked back up into the telepath's startling blue eyes. "If I say yes…" Arya gulped back the growing lump in her throat, trying to keep her thoughts straight. "I can _hurt_ people." She looked deep into the telepath's eyes, desperately wishing she could read his mind the way he could read hers. "Are you sure you want me in the front lines?"

"We're sure," Charles answered without hesitation.

Arya narrowed her eyes, finally voicing out the cause of the on-going war inside her head: "How can I even know if I can trust you?"

Charles dropped his gaze, but Arya didn't, and she watched, her heart pounding, as he shared another glance with Erik. Another unspoken conversation passed between the two before the telepath looked at her again.

"Maybe you can't…" He smiled. "And we may not know what your powers are, but after all this, we intend on letting you walk away with them on a leash."

And though the way he phrased it was considerably odd, Arya's mind was set.

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**don't forget to write a review, lovelies. ;)**


	2. Chapter 2 - Introductions

**given that this is sort of a filler chapter, i'll put up the chapter after this one right away. :)**

**I OWN NOTHING OF THE MARVEL UNIVERSE, ONLY MY OC-ARYA-AND HER FICTIONAL INVOLVEMENT IN THIS STORY.**

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**Chapter 2**

They barely gave Arya enough time to take a shower and pack after that. They insisted on leaving Carlsbad not a minute prior to dawn, which made Arya considerably unhappy. She didn't even know how long she was in for this "war". Who's to say that she was even going to survive it?

During the arduous two hours that passed, she packed.

Erik told her only to bring the necessities, and that she did. In a duffel bag, she packed most of her clothes and two extra pairs of gloves. The boys should have been happy that was all she packed. To her mild surprise, when she stepped out of her house, the two mutants were already waiting for her. They were leaning against a sleek black car, wearing sunglasses even though it was night out. Arya rolled her eyes, but nevertheless handed her bags to them.

Needless to say, the ride was awkward; awkward, but not quiet. Charles kept asking about her mutation, saying that it was "alright" because she was with "friends". When Arya wouldn't say anything, the telepath would invade her mind and bug her there.

It was enough for her to imagine some kind of webbing around her brain to keep out the prodding mind-reader. Somehow, it worked. And when Arya looked to Charles, he was only slightly amused.

The ride was long; though Arya couldn't really keep track of the time because she was too busy trying to stay awake. She'd barely been able to get any sleep the previous night, and the tournament that day had drained a lot out of her. But with the frequent prodding in her brain that startled her every time, she succeeded in the task of staying conscious.

Once they finally arrived at the so-called _isolated_ government facility, the two men didn't really think twice about leaving her alone with the other recruits.

"Guys, come on," Arya called. "Seriously?"

Erik shrugged, and Charles smirked at his indifferent friend. "We'll be back," the telepath said. "Until then, try not to destroy the whole facility, please."

And yes, perhaps some part of her wanted to make friends with people who could _maybe_ relate to her, but if there were going to be introductions and show-and-tell's, she was certainly not looking forward to those. Even before walking through the doors, Arya looked through the glass pane and assessed what she was going to have to call her _teammates_.

There were six of them in total: a brown-haired boy with glasses, one blonde girl with long wavy curls, a dusty-haired teen wearing a leather jacket, a redheaded curly-haired kid, a girl with copper skin and dark hair, and a dark-skinned male wearing a blue sweater. All in all, none of them really looked like mutants.

But then, neither did Arya, right?

They were all laughing. And so, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Arya opened the door and stepped inside. Immediately, the snickering stopped. They all stared at her, their smiles slowly fading from their faces. Arya looked down at herself, checking if there was something wrong with her clothes, when the dark-skinned guy threw his hands up.

He yelled, "New recruit!" The others quickly followed suit, throwing their arms up as well and cheering. Some liquid from the glasses in their hands spilled, but none of them seemed to notice. Arya grinned, walking into the awaiting mass of people she was going to war with.

"We should think of codenames," Raven suddenly blurted out. "We're government agents now, we should have secret codenames."

Over the pass half hour, Arya had learned all the names of the people in the room, and suffice it to say Raven was her favourite person so far. She reminded her of Chloe.

"Amen," Arya said, laughing as she set down her glass.

"I wanna be called Mystique," Raven said, a light glint in her eyes. Arya thought the name didn't really suit her, but then, she also didn't know what her power was. None of them knew any of the other's mutations, only Charles' and Erik's. Why would she want to be called Mystique, then? Arya's curiosity was immediately piqued.

She leaned forward just as Sean, the curly-haired redhead, exclaimed, "_Damn_, I wanted to be called Mystique."

Raven laughed beside Arya. "Well, tough. I called it." In a flash of blue ripples, her body changed into Sean's perfect doppelganger. Everyone jumped back, startled. "And I am way more mysterious than you." After getting over the initial shock of what the blonde just did, everyone started clapping. Raven looked very pleased with herself.

"Darwin, what about you?" she asked.

Darwin, all eyes on him now, shrugged. "Well, uh, Darwin's already a nickname and, uh, you know, it sort of fits… adapt to survive and all." His eyes met Arya's and she raised a questioning eyebrow. "Check this out," he said, sighing as he stood up off the sofa and walked towards the fish tank by the wall.

He dipped his head into the water, and then gills—_fish_ gills—sprouted from the sides of his head. Bubbles floated up from his nose and Arya realized that he must have been breathing normally. Darwin flashed a smile at their direction before pulled back up, shaking his head like a wet dog.

"Thank you, thank you," he said, smiling before pointing at Sean. "What about you?"

"I'm going to be…" The redhead clasped his hands in front of him and pursed his lips, thinking. "Banshee."

"Why do you want to be named after a wailing spirit?" Hank, the one in the glasses, asked immediately. He shifted in his seat when Raven turned her gaze on him. Arya smirked to herself, socially adept enough to know when someone had a crush on someone else.

Sean got off the couch, saying, "You might want to cover your ears."

Arya put her hands over her ears and watched in fascination as the teen squatted in front of one side of the table, his eyes squinting at the liquor-filled glasses. He took a deep breath and held it in for a while. Arya was just about to ask what he was doing when a shrill sound erupted from his mouth.

She actually _saw_ the sound waves travel from his mouth and to the large glass window across the room. His aim needed some improvement, but his mutation was amazing. The glass window shattered, and everyone stared for a moment before erupting in laughter, clapping.

"Your turn." Sean pointed at Angel—the one with copper skin—as he took his seat again.

Angel pushed herself off the sofa and slid her jacket off. "My, uh… _stage name_ is Angel." Sean looked very pleased with the sight, as he whistled, and Arya couldn't help but roll her eyes. Angel glanced at her with a smirk on her face before turning around; showing them all what they all thought was a tattoo on her back. "It kind of fits," she said, as her _tattoo_ turned into full-fledged wings—not like a butterfly's, but like a dragonfly's.

"You can _fly_?" Arya cried, nearly spitting out the champagne still in her mouth.

"Uh-huh. And…" Angel turned to her right and spit. Arya watched as the ball of saliva turned into a flaming wad of acid. It hit the statue outside and turned its head into a fiery mess.

As the room erupted in applause, she turned to Hank—the one in the glasses. "What's your name?"

The genius didn't seem at all comfortable with the entire situation, and Arya guessed that she would feel the same when it was finally her turn.

"How about Big Foot?" Alex, the dusty blonde, said, drinking from his beer as he smirked.

Arya wasn't happy with his behaviour. "Well, you know what they say about guys with big feet," she pointed out, her voice dripping with mischievousness. "And yours are kind of small." She smirked at his reaction while the rest of the people in the room snickered. Arya turned just in time to see Raven patting Hank's knee, a sympathetic smile on her face.

When the prodigy turned his gaze on her, Arya simply winked before beckoning for him to show his mutation, because she didn't know and was wondering why he would be called Big Foot. He just shook his head. And though Arya was curious, she let it slide.

Darwin spoke. "Alex, what _is_ your gift? What can you do?" He didn't sound happy with what just happened either.

"It's not, um…" Alex trailed off, rubbing his head. "I just can't do it… Can't do it in here…"

"Well, I'm interested," Arya said, leaning forward and motioning with her beer bottle to outside the room. "Can you do it out there?"

Alex threw a glare at her initial direction, making her laugh, but otherwise stood up because the people in the room were chanting his name _very_ loudly. Arya suspected that he didn't want people to start wondering what was happening.

He stepped over the broken shards of glass, now outside, and said, "Get down when I tell you."

The rest of the mutants followed him, their heads peeking out from behind a sidewall. Alex positioned himself to the left of the corroded statue and glanced at them. "Get back," he said. And for a moment the mutants did as he said, staying behind the wall, but after a moment they peeked out again. Arya grinned at Alex's annoyed expression. "_Get back_," he repeated, but this time none of them followed. He rolled his eyes, grumbling, "Whatever." He rubbed his hands together, and the temperature in the room seemed to rise despite the fact that the evening was chilly outside.

Arya watched with wide eyes when Alex started twisting his body, resulting in multiple circles of red light pulsing from his body. It orbited around him for a second before flying off. Most went off to God-knows-where, but one hit the previously corroded statue.

Now, it was split in half, on fire from where the circle of energy had hit it.

Raven was practically jumping from excitement. Arya glanced behind her and threw a grin, before realizing that Alex was done showing his mutation and now it was her turn. She wasn't at all excited about it.

Eventually, however, when everyone was back inside the room and on the couches, they all looked to her. "So?" Raven said, leaning toward her. "What can you do, Arya?"

Arya cleared her throat. "I can't really… _do_ it here—"

"Nuh-uh," Darwin interrupted. "Like you said before, you can do it out there!" He pointed outside just as Arya had when talking with Alex. This was different though.

"No, I'm serious." Arya rubbed her hands together, feeling the itch in her palms. "I… _can't_."

Something in her voice must have tipped the others, because they dropped it. Raven, however, still wanted something. "Well," she started. "Can you show us _anything_ about your power?"

Arya swallowed the growing lump in her throat, blinking rapidly. "I guess…" Hesitantly, she pulled one of her gloves off her hand, not seeing a way out. It's not like she had to show them what happened when she touched them, right? With the glove off, she raised her hands and showed them her palms.

She never really found out whether someone had burned it onto her skin, or if she was born with it; but imprinted onto the skin of her palms were two identical symbols.

Arya could only describe it as a circle consisting of lines. They were like jagged spikes on a ball. There were eight spikes all in all. Where north, south, east, and west should have been, the spikes were longer. The symbol wasn't exactly regular and exact, but it meant something.

"The symbol isn't very widely known in the world today, but, you know, me and my friends did a little research." Arya didn't mind that they stared, but when any of them made a move to prod her hand she pulled it away, sending them her best glare. They got the picture.

Sean kept trying though. "That's _awesome_!" he said, and Arya was surprised that he hadn't used the word "weird". A lot of people did.

She laughed, slipping her glove back on. "Thanks …?" When she saw Raven grinning, a sparkle in her eye, she knew that going to war with these people was probably going to be the most fun she'd ever had. Dangerous. But fun.

Afterwards, a very intense and loud process of partying happened.

Arya was dancing on the couch, hand-in-hand with Raven as she laughed. They watched in utter amusement as the boys kept hitting with Darwin with every piece of furniture they could find. But the dark-skinned man had a hard coat of black material encasing him. They couldn't break through it. Angel flew around the room, flitting here and there to flick one or the other's ear. Hank was upside-down, his feet latched onto the hanging light bulb.

In other words, it was the most mutant-made party ever.

But Arya was also the first one to notice the three pairs of individuals standing outside, behind the large square hole in the wall that was supposed to be holding a glass pane in place. Erik and Charles stood on either side of a skinny brunette woman who had her hands into fists on her hips. None of them seemed to like what they were seeing.

Arya stopped dancing, giving Raven's hand a squeeze before jumping off the couch. Her feet landed onto the floor quite heavily. It made a loud thump that no one seemed to notice. She turned around and was met with Charles' unamused blue eyes.

And when she shrugged, and he only shook his head, Arya knew that they were in a whole new world of trouble.

* * *

That night, Arya stayed awake for quite a while.

Charles, Erik, and the brunette—she found out that her name was Moira MacTaggert—showed them all to their rooms. In some way, Arya was kind of sad that she wasn't going to have a roommate. She hoped that Charles would allow Raven to share the room with her, but he didn't, much to Raven's annoyance. Arya shrugged to herself, thinking that it might have been for the best. After all, wasn't it she who had the more pain-causing powers amongst all of them?

And why had she expected more from Charles anyway? Why had she expected that he would consider? Arya was just another one of his recruits, fighting for _his_ war.

She couldn't really get over the look on his face when he found them partying, though. What were they supposed to do, really? The introductions were done. The show-and-tell was done. They were all friends. What was left to do but to celebrate the fact that they weren't alone anymore?

Her heart went out to Raven. It seemed like she and the telepath been friends for a long time. Arya was sure that it must have been heart-breaking to see someone so close to you get so angry. But Arya wished that she had someone like Charles during her childhood, someone who would have understood her even a little bit. She didn't even have siblings. The closest Arya had to a sister was Chloe, and they only met when Arya had decided to move to Carlsbad. That was only seven years ago.

When did Charles and Raven meet? When they were 11, or 12?

Arya had no one until she was 17.

It was also during night time that Arya's mind decided to venture off to unwanted places, rewatch memories that wanted to stay forgotten. Arya never really, forgot, though; what happened to her parents; what _she_ did to her parents. She knew that it was never going to go away, as well.

Who could live like that?

Who could waltz through life, knowing that it was their fault that their parents were dead?

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**i LIVE for (positive?) reviews! ^^**


	3. Chapter 3 - Ambush

**I OWN NOTHING OF THE MARVEL UNIVERSE, ONLY MY OC-ARYA-AND HER FICTIONAL INVOLVEMENT IN THIS STORY.**

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**Chapter 3**

Arya approximately had six hours of sleep, as she was only able to fall asleep at 2 o'clock in the morning and woke up at sometime around 8. She was used to it, but it didn't make the drowsiness throughout the first few minutes of the day any less aggravating.

Needless to say, the freezing water coming from the showers woke her right up. After her wash, she was surprised to find her clothes, which were previously still rumpled and messily folded in her duffel bags, now neatly hung in the closet across her room. Along with her underwear. She just hoped that the housekeeping were all female.

Arya slowly got dressed, her limbs still heavy from fatigue. The cold water had all but numbed her skin, making it all the more harder to move. But her mind was awake and ready for whatever the CIA was planning to do with them.

Her clothes were simple: black pants and a grey sweater, along with her only pair of boots. They did stay in the same place for the entire day yesterday. What could change?

Making her way down the stairs and through the hallways, Arya could already hear noises coming from the room they all shared. When she walked in, she wasn't at all really surprised at the sight before her: Darwin and Alex were the first faces she saw. They were standing together, Darwin looking down as Alex presumably beat his high score in a pinball machine. Raven, Angel, Hank, and Sean were all sitting on the couches, huddled up but not really talking about anything.

It seemed that she was the last one to wake up.

Arya waved when Raven saw her, but didn't make her way towards them yet.

To her utter delight, a plate had already been set for her on the counter at the end of the room, but all the other dishes had been cleared out. Waking up later than most always resulted in having to eat alone; not that Arya minded. There were bacon and eggs, two slices of toast bread, and a glass of orange juice and coffee waiting for her. Arya snatched a slice of bread and put it in her mouth before taking the plate and the glass of orange juice off the counter. She made her way towards the four people on the sofa, touching down next to Raven.

"Here," Arya called, throwing the remaining piece of toast to Hank, who sat across from her. He caught it and nodded a thank you. Arya nodded back, nibbling on a piece of bacon.

She turned and saw that the glass Sean/Banshee had shattered yesterday had been replaced. And behind that glass, two men in suits stopped their walking to sneer at them, to the people who were just so freakish but were actually strong enough to kill all of them.

"Oh, I didn't know the circus was in town!" one of them jeered, spreading his arms about him before pointing at Angel. "Come on, honey, give us a little, uh…" he trailed off, making flapping motions with his arms. Angel glared at the two, giving them a sarcastic smile.

Then the other guy tapped his friend's shoulder and pointed at Hank. He brought his foot up.

Before Hank could do it himself, Arya set her plate and glass of orange juice down and stood up. She motioned for Hank to stay seated, and he did, and Arya walked up to the glass.

"Haven't heard about what you can do," one of them said, his eyes roaming up and down her body. "Care to show us a little, sugar?"

Arya scoffed at them, pulling down the curtains but not before flipping them the finger. Their jeers stopped as soon as the drapes fell, and Arya went back to her seat.

"They're just guys being stupid," Raven said to a steaming Angel.

Angel looked at her, and Arya could see the anger and pain in her eyes. "Guys being stupid, I can handle, okay? I've handled that my whole life," she said. "But I'd rather have a bunch of guys stare at me with my clothes _off_ than the way these ones stare at me."

"At us," Raven corrected, but even Arya could notice the tone of tiredness and sympathy in her voice. Although, Angel really did have a point.

"Well," Arya sighed. "I'm officially over the negativity in this room." She took another large bite of bacon before setting her plate down again. "Who wants to play a few rounds of Duck Duck Goose?"

Her joke lightened up the mood in the room for a little bit. Only for a little bit. But it was enough. Raven and Angel smiled her way while the boys across from them groaned.

"I was joking!"

"And I don't wanna play."

"I do!"

"No!"

"Aw, come on. It'll be fun!"

"I _refuse_ to have my hair ruined so early in the morning."

But Arya wasn't paying attention anymore. She stopped joining in on their bantering as soon as she noticed the chandelier above their heads shaking. There was a distant rumbling outside, and the floor beneath them shook.

Arya didn't even need to call their attention anymore. By that time, everybody had noticed. Alex and Darwin's pinball game was halted, and as the beeping stopped there was a loud bang in the distance. It seemed that all of them knew what had made the loud noise, for everyone was immediately on their feet.

"What was that?" Darwin asked. Arya shook her head at him, for no one knew what was happening, and he patted Alex on the shoulder before moving away from the pinball machine.

"Something doesn't feel right," he said, making his way towards the large glass window. He pressed a button at the side and the curtains pulled back, revealing the outside.

They all looked around, but there was really nothing out of the ordinary. There were no people outside, which wasn't strange because there had been no people outside the previous night.

Arya jumped when there was another loud bang, and this time she recognized the sound, the unmistakable crack of a gun. "Get back," she said, spreading her arms to her sides as she backed away from the window.

None of them followed her order, instead looking up at something outside.

"What is that?" Darwin asked, pulling at Arya's sleeve. She stepped forward and looked up as well.

There were two figures blocking out the light of the moon. Human figures. They seemed to have appeared out of nowhere and even Arya knew that that wasn't right. One seemed to be holding the other aloft, but he disappeared. Literally. The one left alone by the light of the moon started his descent. He fell, and within seconds he was just a crumpled heap on the floor outside the window.

Raven shrieked in alarm, and the others stumbled back. "Get back!" Darwin yelled, pushing the others deeper into the room. At that same moment, other people started falling from the sky in a surprisingly fast rate. _The guards,_ Arya thought.

Arya surged forward and pushed the button, drawing the curtains down once more. When she turned around she found the whole group of mutants cowering by the sofas. "We have to—"

She was interrupted by a loud banging at the window. "Get back! Get back!" someone yelled from behind the curtain, hitting the window to get their attention.

There was light cast over the thin cloth of the drapes, and Arya could see the shadows of approximately three people, holding what looked to be machine guns in their hands.

"Do not leave that room! We're under attack!" the same voice yelled, but he cut off abruptly. A millisecond after, he was yelling, "Shoot it! Shoot it!" The noise of multiple gunshots rang, and the people around Arya simultaneously dropped to the ground, screaming in panic. Arya stumbled back as the large glass window shattered, presumably because of a stray bullet. The curtains fell as well. The first thing Arya saw was a lone man standing in the middle of the clearing outside. No one else.

Suddenly, the rumbling grew louder and there was yelling. They looked behind them and across the room where there was a similar glass window. Arya watched in horror as a full-fledged tornado flew across the grassy clearing.

When Arya whipped her head around again there were several more men outside, but soon they were all lying on the ground, blood pooling beneath them. She allowed herself to look past Darwin's shoulder and at the thing that had killed them.

He looked like a demon. Beneath his night-black bodysuit, his skin was blood red. His eyes were the color of fire. All over his face, there were scars. Behind him, whipping around, was a forked tail. Men were shooting at the thing from everywhere, but none of the bullets seemed to have any impact on him.

Arya let out a yelp of fear as the thing disappeared in a cloud of red and black smoke, before reappearing over a hundred yards away, where he took down three men all on his own.

"Stay here my ass," Darwin yelled, startling all of them with his sudden booming voice. "Let's go!" He stood up from his squatting position, leaving the rest of them without protection. None of them saw any other option.

Darwin went out the door first, leading them through seemingly random hallways. Arya didn't mind if they got lost. Better that than dead.

When they reached a fork in the path, men with guns bumped into them. "GET BACK! GET BA—" There was a loud explosion from across the hall, followed by blazing heat, and the men started firing.

Raven was screaming beside Arya as she pulled her away from the gunshots. They started running the other way, and sooner rather than later they were back in the room they had come from. Outside the window that hadn't been shattered, the tornado was still there, downright levelling the field outside. Hank's Cerebro was all but gone as chunks of earth and metal flew in every direction.

Inside the tornado, Arya caught a glimpse of a man being whirled around in the strong wind. Not soon after, he was flying towards their direction. He broke through the glass and fell to the floor. Dead.

On the other side of the room, the demon killed the last man in the clearing, driving its tail through his heart. Raven sobbed beside Arya, and Arya tried to comfort her friend; but she was just as terrified. The red demon-man stared at her group with piercing eyes, and glanced briefly behind them. Arya whirled around to find another man, this one with shoulder-length black hair and a grey suit, strut into the room. Was he the one who had caused the tornado?

Arya jumped when there was a loud banging at the door from where they had tried to escape. Voices as well. "You want the mutants?" someone yelled. "They're right through that door. Just let us _normal_ people go. We're not a thre—" He was cut off by what sounded like a knife through his chest. Arya winced at the gory sound.

Just then, a man stepped through the door. He was dressed in formal clothing, with a red dress shirt beneath a black tuxedo. On his head was an odd-looking metal helmet, but Arya wasn't in a position to ask.

"Where's the telepath?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the mutant group.

The red demon-man answered, "Not here."

"Too bad," the man with the helmet replied. "Well, at least I can take this silly thing off." They all watched as he took off the helmet, revealing tousled brown hair beneath. "Good evening," he said afterwards, as if the whole thing hadn't just traumatized every single young mutant in the room. "My name is Sebastian Shaw. And I am not here to hurt you."

Arya barely pulled her scoff back in, but she knew that it would have been the death of her. She also knew that this was the man Charles and Erik had told them they were supposed to fight against. He was the reason they'd been recruited.

The man took slow, deliberate steps towards them. And when a random soldier ran into the clearing outside, he merely ordered the red demon-man to take care of him.

Azazel was the red man's name. Arya was the only one who turned around to watch him kill the guard.

"My friends," Shaw started, making Arya look at him once more. He handed his helmet to the man responsible for the tornado. "There's a revolution coming. When mankind discovers what we are, what we can do, each of us will face a choice. Be enslaved…" He looked to Darwin. "…or rise up to rule."

In her mind, Arya was yelling for Charles, calling out to him, hoping that he could actually hear her.

"Choose freely, but know that if you are not with us…" Shaw met her gaze and Arya wasn't able to keep back a scowl. Anger flared up within her when the corners of his lips twitched. He continued, "Then by definition you are _against_ us. So, you can stay, and fight for people who _hate_ and fear you." His eyes flitted to every one of them. And Arya knew that her friends were afraid and wanted the people around them to change, but she was positive that none of them would even _consider_… _Right?_

Arya could feel Raven's steel hard grip on her arm tighten as Shaw spoke. "Or you can join me, and live like kings." His voice turned into a harsh whisper as he turned his gaze to Angel, what Arya knew to be mock gentleness in his eyes. "And queens."

When Arya's gaze flickered to Angel, she saw the girl's eyes brimmed with tears. _She can't._ Shaw held his hand out in front of her. _She wouldn't._ The sob that had been growing at the back of Arya's throat finally broke loose when Angel took Shaw's hand. As they walked away from the group, Arya couldn't help but to call out to her, maybe hoping that she would be able to change the girl's mind.

"Angel," Arya said, her voice shaky from fear. "Don't."

Angel turned around and looked at her with stern eyes. But before she could say anything, Shaw did. "I understand that your powers are… _incredible_, aren't they?" he said to Arya.

She glared at him. "I don't plan on using them for _you_."

Shaw grinned at her, making her shudder under his cold gaze. "Oh, but I just want to see it for myself."

"I said _no_—" Just then, Azazel stepped up to her and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her away from Raven and from the group. Arya yelled in protest but was quickly silenced when Shaw pulled her glove off. " HEY!"

He wagged his finger, not tearing his eyes away from the symbol on her palm. "Now, I'm not going to hurt you. You're far too valuable. But if you keep this up…" he trailed off, raising his eyebrows. Arya glared at him but otherwise kept quiet, knowing what would happen if she didn't.

Shaw lifted her hand with cold fingers, only touching her by the wrist, and placed her fingers onto Azazel's arm.

Arya expected the mutant to start flailing around, wailing in pain as humans usually did when she touched them; but instead, the skin where her fingers touched turned normal, no longer red, only the color of flesh. When Arya looked up, she saw that the mutant wasn't at all happy with it, but he didn't flinch.

"Azazel, try to teleport," Shaw ordered his henchman. Arya watched in fascination as Azazel's face scrunched up in concentration, but he stayed where he was. And that was when Arya realized just exactly what her mutation could do to _mutants_.

"Wonderful," she heard Shaw chuckle behind her, and she turned around to find him smiling ear to ear. "Are you sure you don't want to join us?"

Arya spat in his face. "Go to hell."

At those words, Shaw shoved her away from himself and his team, and Arya stumbled into Raven's awaiting arms, shaking.

Shaw walked away with Angel in tow. "We have to do something," Raven muttered as she helped Arya straighten herself up. Those were the first coherent words she'd said during this whole mess. Azazel and the man in the grey suit followed Shaw. Meanwhile, Darwin and Alex were having a conversation, too low for Arya to hear but she could only assume that they had a plan. When they started shoving each other, she wasn't so sure.

Darwin was the first to stop, but instead of staying rooted in place, he walked towards the four mutants outside in the clearing. "Stop," he called. "I'm coming with you."

Arya balled her hands into fists at the smug looks on their faces, and released a huff of breath in disbelief and in anger. Out of all of them, she would never have guessed for Darwin to turn his back on them.

"Good choice," Shaw said, stepping forward and shaking hands with Darwin. "Tell me about your mutation."

She barely noticed it when the remaining of her group started moving away from her, and probably wouldn't have if Raven hadn't pulled her along. Despite being confused, Arya could see the determination, not anger, in her friends' eyes and assumed that it was all part of the plan none of them seemed to know about.

"Well, I adapt to survive," Darwin replied. "So I guess I'm coming with you."

He took his place beside Angel, and then something flickered across his face. "ALEX, DO IT!"

"GET OUT!" Before Arya could react, Raven was pulling her away from the middle of the room. Alex whirled his body around before releasing the large circles of energy Arya had only seen once before.

It was perfectly aimed, and for a moment Arya thought it was over, that they had killed Shaw and maybe even his minions. But all that hope was washed down the drain as soon as it came. Because Shaw was unharmed, and neither were his comrades. He seemed to have absorbed the force of the blast with his hands alone.

"Protecting your fellow mutants?" he said. "That's a noble gesture. Feels good." Darwin was about to land a punch on the bloke's face when Shaw turned to him, blocking the blow with his arm.

Arya was pinned in place. Raven refused to let her help. She was right though. What could she do that Alex hadn't already done threefold?

Shaw grabbed Darwin's jaw, and released what seemed to be a tiny ball of energy—it looked like the same kind as Alex's—and put that ball into Darwin's mouth. He whispered something too low for any of them to hear, but they all understood what was happening. Shaw paced back to the three patiently waiting enemy-mutants, and they were gone in the blink of an eye, leaving Darwin alone on the field. But Arya caught the brief glance Shaw pointed at her, and she loathed him for it.

Arya stared as Darwin's throat pulsed with red light. Whatever Shaw had done to him, he was trying to adapt, to protect himself from the blow. But who could protect themselves from an attack that came from the inside?

His skin turned metal, but only for a moment before his chest glowed, and from where his heart should have been, his skin slowly started turning into stone. Cracked stone. Darwin looked to the mutants still in the room, those who hadn't given up, but most specifically to Alex. He reached for him, the look on his face unreadable. And for a second, his face turned into the real Darwin's. It didn't last long.

Five seconds later, there was no one and nothing left in the clearing but dead men in black suits and a large black spot where their friend used to be standing.

* * *

**[demonic voice] review or you will get a taste of hellfire.**

**[normal voice] i'm just kidding i love you guys HAHAHAH**


	4. Chapter 4 - Finding Our Roots

**I OWN NOTHING OF THE MARVEL UNIVERSE, ONLY MY OC-ARYA-AND HER FICTIONAL INVOLVEMENT IN THIS STORY.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Even before back-up came, Arya was positive that everyone—or maybe most of the people—in the facility were already dead. And why wouldn't she think that? Everywhere around her and her remaining group of friends, there were bodies; bodies unmoving, bodies crushed beneath huge chunks of rubble, bodies drowning in little pools of blood.

_Darwin's dead._ Why not think everyone else was dead too?

The whole team was mourning him. He had been a great guy. Arya hadn't even been able to spend an entire day with him, and yet she knew that he would never have given up on them. He would have been with them if they won the war, or even if they lost. He wouldn't have left them.

And that was why Arya wanted to defeat Shaw.

She wanted to defeat him in the way because he stole Angel away from them; because he killed Darwin, their friend; because he went against every good Charles and Erik were trying to accomplish; because he was _corrupting_ mutants. He was feeding them lies, telling them things would get better if they did this or if they did that. Would things really get better? Would the world really become a better place if they started World War 3?

The answer was obvious, and yet Arya couldn't get herself to wrap her mind around the fact that mutants, _her kind_, were being so stupid. Did they really believe Shaw? Arya wanted to know, because if they did, she would make it the point of her life to get them to change their mind. But then, supposedly, that's what they were doing, right? They were trying to stop them, stop Shaw. The downside was that they had to do it by force, brute strength. They had to _hurt_ them.

Arya didn't want to hurt anybody. All her life, that's what she'd been trying _not_ to do. And now she was back in the fray, in the battlefield, a gun practically being kicked over to her by the enemy.

Her thoughts had taken a dangerous turn, and she was thankful that Raven startled her out of her reverie.

"Hey," she said, putting her hand on Arya's leg. They were sitting on the cement benches just outside of the facility. To their right, there were Alex and Sean—the first looking very dejected while the latter was asleep—and to their left, there was Hank. He hadn't said a word that day, not even before the attack.

"You okay?" Raven asked, pulling Arya out of her thoughts once more.

Arya shook her head, frowning deeply. "Not really."

"Yeah, well…" the blonde clasped her hands in front of her, twiddling her thumbs as she stared down at them, her face contorted into a frown. "Aren't we all."

Silence passed over them once again and Arya decided that she had to keep herself busy, or, at least, distracted. And as she saw nothing else she _could_ do, she stood up and started pacing.

During her time walking around, the supposed back-up came and started cleaning up, some of the bigger ones with guns and muscles making their way back into the building. After all, maybe some had survived. Arya let them pass her by. They were waiting for Charles and Erik, not for the back-up.

She walked around piles of rubble, sometimes kicking small pieces if her mind was being considerably tricky.

Whenever she passed a dead body, she would grimace and walk up to it, kneeling down to look at the nameplate before standing up and walking again. She'd repeat the names over and over again in her head, and it worked, for a while. Eventually, though, one of her teammates finally noticed the lack of meaning to what she was doing. In this case, it was Sean who noticed, and he was supposed to be asleep.

"What are you doing?" he said groggily, rubbing his eyes.

After thinking about it, Arya shrugged. "I don't know."

In her ears, she sounded like a child. But apparently, to the others, she sounded like someone who was depressed and confused and forlorn, as they all threw worried glances at her direction from time to time.

After a while, Arya finally stopped pacing around, partly because her mind was getting strained from remembering so many dead men's names and partly because the looks her friends were giving her were starting to get irritating. When she sat back down next to Raven, her friend didn't waste any time to hesitate on asking her a question.

"How'd you do it?"

Arya turned to look at the blonde sitting beside her, confused. "Do what?"

"How did you _cure_ him?"

When she found that she was dead serious, Arya jumped down from her own private cloud nine, slowly sinking back to earth. For a moment, she didn't speak. She thought about the question, and then the answer, and then just settled for a simple "I don't know" phrasing, because she really didn't.

Raven stared at her. "Was that your mutation? What you did to Azazel?"

"I guess…" Arya looked down at her hands, fiddling with her sweater, and thinking. "It never really worked like that before."

"What do you mean?"

She looked up and met Raven's eyes. _Maybe I should tell her,_ she thought to herself. _Maybe it would help._ It never helped before. It didn't help when she went to therapy after the accident. It didn't help when she had told Chloe all about it. It didn't help when she _prayed_, and it was actually the first time she prayed, so why would it have helped? _Maybe it'll help now._

Arya clung onto that like a lifeline, and was still holding on when she spoke. "Before, when Iwould _touch_ people, they would… they would be in pain."

Raven was silent for a moment. "Arya, you don't mean that literally, do you?"

"I mean that _very_ literally, Raven," Arya said, letting out a humorless laugh. She raised her gloved hands and put them up in front of her face. "Why do you think I wear these?"

"I'm so sorry…" Arya looked up to find a sympathetic smile on her friend's face, and for the first time in a long time, she was thankful.

Arya smiled back. "Thank you." Then she slunk back down into the bench, suddenly very tired.

Her eyes were drooping when Raven spoke again. "Arya…" She looked up when her blonde friend trailed off, and almost gasped at what she saw.

Raven's skin was pure blue, scaled and glistening under the sunlight. Her hair, previously blonde, had turned into a beautiful shade of dark orange, almost red. Her eyes were yellow, the pupils dilated like a snake's. Maybe most people would have thought that Raven was hideous, and ugly, and frightening. For a moment, Arya thought that as well. But then she remembered the kindness this woman had showed in the day she had known her. Arya looked again and found that she was very beautiful.

"Raven…" Arya gasped, just before a smile lit up her face. "You look—"

"Hideous, I know."

Arya frowned. "That wasn't what I was going to say."

Raven offered a sheepish smile that must have been her excuse for a sorry—one that Arya accepted—before placing her hand on Arya's. Arya wasn't as surprised as she expected herself to be to find that her skin was just as warm as it always was.

She looked up and found Raven's eyes boring into her, what seemed to be a pleading look on her face. "Please?"

Arya stared at her for a few seconds before understanding what her friend was asking for. "Oh… alright, I guess…"

Hesitantly, she pulled the gloves off of one hand and raised her hand to touch Raven's face, knowing that she just wanted to see. For a moment, she was afraid. What if she would hurt her? What if her powers wouldn't work with someone like Raven? Arya grew petrified as she remembered what happened the last time she touched someone. But maybe her powers only hurt normal people, _humans_. It was a good theory; one Arya was willing to test.

She finally placed her hand on Raven's cheek, and without even trying, her mutation started its course.

From the skin of Raven's cheek, blue slowly turned into pale flesh. The effects branched from there and made its way to Raven's eyes, turning yellow into a beautiful brown, much like Arya's. Then her red hair turned into a normal hue of black.

Arya laughed in glee, meeting Raven's eyes and nodding at her. "You're beautiful," she said. Raven's face lit up in a smile as she laughed as well, but the moment was cut short by someone calling her name.

"Raven!" The unmistakable accent in the voice told Arya that their two superiors had finally arrived.

She dropped her hand from Raven's cheek as Charles appeared behind an overturned cab. Almost immediately, her features reverted back to their normal state. Raven shifted into her blonde form and flashed Arya a smile before standing up and running up to Charles.

"Are you gonna tell me how you did that?" a familiar deep voice asked. Arya turned around to find both Sean and Alex staring at her, creases above their eyebrows.

She shrugged. "It's my mutation."

The two didn't say anything after that, but Arya was vaguely aware of their eyes piercing into the back of her head, and maybe even an extra set.

When she raised her head, she found Erik leaning against a pile of rubble to her right, next to Alex and Sean. He was eyeing at her as well, and his gaze was stonier than either of the younger boys'.

Beside him was the brunette Moira MacTaggert, though she seemed more interested in the low exchange going on between Raven and Charles.

"We've made arrangements for you to be taken home immediately," the telepath said, his statement quick and blunt.

Arya wearily raised her head to look at him. "Seriously?"

He was about to say something when Sean beat him to the punch.

"We're not going home," he said.

"What?"

"He's not going back to prison." Sean glanced at Alex at the young man beside him as he said this.

"He killed Darwin," Alex said, raising his voice. Now, Arya didn't know much about him, but she knew that he was closer to their fallen friend than any of them were.

"All the more reason for you to leave." Charles looked down at him with stern eyes. "This is over."

No one competed with him after that, and Arya took it upon herself to do so. "Darwin's dead, Charles," she said, meeting his gaze when he turned to look at her. "And we can't even bury him."

Beside her, Sean and Alex bowed their heads, and Arya spared a glance to find Raven doing the same.

"We can avenge him."

Arya's head snapped to the side, to where the bold statement came from.

Erik looked at her austerely, seemingly pleased with what he had just said. Did he really mean it, thought? As far as she knew, they couldn't even use their powers correctly. How were they going to defeat someone as strong as Shaw?

Charles wasn't happy. "Erik, a word please," he said, striding past Erik. The other mutant followed behind him, leaving the rest to wait for the verdict.

They all looked on at the two conversing, obviously more experienced mutants as they spoke, exchanging brief words. Arya found herself hoping that Erik would be able to dissuade Charles, change his mind. He had told her that they would teach her. She was not going to back away from that option so easily now that she discovered what her powers could really do.

She straightened up when Charles finally turned around, and barely bit back a smile when he said, "We'll have to train, all of us, yes?"

Along with the others, she nodded in approval.

"Well, we can't stay here," Hank said, the first time he'd spoken that day. "Even if they reopen the apartment, it's not safe." He trailed off, biting his lip. "We got nowhere to go."

Arya turned her gaze to Charles. She could see that he was trying very hard to hide the smirk behind a tough mask of seriousness. "Yes, we do," he said.

* * *

It was a little after noon when they arrived, and needless to say, Charles' family was indubitably rich.

The mansion was huge; a more appropriate word for it would have been boarding house. There were more than a dozen bedrooms—which seriously was very surprising because they were all located on the top floor. It was where they had been shown to first. And get this; the rooms already came with bathrooms. Bathrooms with bath tubs. After the rooms, they really just made their way down from there: the kitchen, the living room, the gym, the shooting range, the Game Room (Arya overheard Alex and Sean snickering about it behind the group), the laundry room, and the bar.

Raven told them that outside really wasn't much anymore. "There's a swimming pool, a pond, basketball court, the field… and that's about it."

The others stared at her, mouths agape. Arya grinned.

Throughout the rest of the day, Charles let them do whatever they wanted.

Not much to her surprise, Sean and Alex immediately made a run for the Game Room. Arya couldn't really blame them, remembering that there was a pool table and dart boards inside.

Arya was slightly disheartened when Raven told her she was going to go for a swim. Of course, the blonde asked whether she'd like to join her or not. Arya answered by telling her that swimming wasn't really her thing, which must have seemed odd considering that she'd lived in California. Raven let her go anyway, telling her to enjoy herself before walking off.

Arya stood in place for a moment, running through her thoughts. _What do I want to do today?_

_ Drink,_ a voice in the back of her head told her, and it wasn't Charles. She grinned, shoving her hands in her pockets before walking briskly down the hallway and to the bar.

Maybe she should have taken a long bath first, but that could wait until the end of the day. Until then, Arya had some fun ideas she'd like to try out before the war started, as she assumed that as soon as she was in it, there wasn't going to be a way back out.

* * *

After dinner, there was an initial meeting in the living room. All in all, there were seven of them. Arya was confident with that number, confident that they would stand a chance against Shaw if they had the proper training.

Primarily, the meeting was just Charles explaining to all of them what would be happening the next few days. "You wait; do whatever you want, until I call you." They were going to have sessions one by one with Charles and Erik, solo sessions.

Arya looked around her and saw everyone else bouncing in their seats in excitement, while Arya just sat there and thought long and hard about her mutation. What could she even do with it? Why would she need to train with it? All she really had to do was touch a mutant and their genes would turn normal, they would turn human. And if she touched humans…

She stopped thinking. When she raised her head, she found Charles staring intensely at her. And she knew that look. Suddenly, Arya felt defensive. She imagined the make-believe webbing around her brain once more, her mental defenses. _Stay out of my head._

The professor looked mildly shocked. After that, he told them all to get to bed early, as tomorrow was "going to be a very taxing day". Arya couldn't help but wonder how it would be for _her_ the next day.

That night, Arya fell asleep easily after she tucked herself into bed. But closing her eyes and letting her mind drift wasn't enough, and soon, a world of dreams and nightmares descended upon her.

* * *

**i love your reviews like how i love mashed potatoes-very much.**


	5. Chapter 5 - Dreams and Distractions

**I OWN NOTHING OF THE MARVEL UNIVERSE, ONLY MY OC-ARYA-AND HER FICTIONAL INVOLVEMENT IN THIS STORY.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**PREVIOUSLY...**

** That night, Arya fell asleep as easily as she tucked herself into bed. But closing her eyes and letting her mind drift wasn't enough, and soon, a world of dreams and nightmares descended upon her.**

_"I don't wanna play this anymore," Matt said, crossing his arms and pointing me a pouty face._

_ "You just can't catch me!" I said, laughing as I skipped around him. His hand kept flying out to tag me but I would just jump out of the way and start skipping again. "Aw, come on, you can do better than that!"_

_ He tried to grab me this time, but his hand only grazed my shirt. I yelped in surprise but was still able to pull away. "That's not fair!" Matt cried, annoyed._

_ "Wha—hey!" He started walking away from me, his shoes trudging noisily on the crisp grass. "Matt, come back!" I ran to catch up to him, poking his shoulder. He refused to look at me, and I could see tears running down his cheeks. "Matt, come on, seriously? Again?"_

_ "You never let me win," he grumbled._

_ "But that's the whole point of playing Tag!"_

_ "Then I don't wanna play Tag anymore!"_

_ I was 12, Matt was five years younger than me, and he still hadn't exactly learned the point of being mature. But I let it pass. I always did, considering I didn't have many friends to begin with._

_ We reached the end of the field, but Matt didn't stop walking. He made me follow him down the sidewalk, and I was starting to feel that he was walking home without telling me._

_ "Matt!" I said, rushing up so that I could stand in front of him. I put my hands on his shoulders to keep him still, but when he roughly shrugged them off and stomped his foot, walking away again, I let him._

_ Again, I always let him._

_ "Matt, please don't be mad," I said, falling a few steps behind just like what I always did every other time he got mad at me. "I'm sorry."_

_ He didn't turn around this time, though. "I just wanna go home," he grumbled and kept walking. I followed him, considerably dejected because he had never neglected my apologies before. I grew worried. We passed by Jenna Sayer's house. I saw Matt slow his pace for a second, his head turning to look at the house before rushing past the mailbox._

_ I grinned. "You still have that crush, huh?" He didn't answer, and I grew more worried._

_ "Matt?" I called his name again, stopping when he whirled around to face me._

_ His face was red with rage. "JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" he yelled, angry streaks running down his face. After stomping his foot, he ran away and up the stairs to his house which was only a few more yards away. I didn't chase him anymore._

_ Matt never yelled. He _never_ raised his voice; not at home, not with me, not at school. What had I done?_

_ I stood there on the sidewalk for a long while, staring at his house, thinking about what just happened. Kids ran past me, laughing, some with balls in their hands, some with jump ropes. And yet all of them never even glanced at my direction. It's not that I didn't mind being invisible, but sometimes it hurt._

_ To my surprise, when I started walking again, the door to Matt's house flew open and out of it came my young friend. He ran down the steps, arms flailing behind him. From a distance, I could see that he was still crying. But when he ran straight into my arms, hugging me, I hugged him back._

_ "I'm sorry," he said, over and over again into my stomach—yes, he was that short. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"_

_ I stroked his head, smiling. "I'm sorry too, Matty. I should have let you win."_

_ Once he pulled away, I held his face between my hands, brushing the tears away and looking him straight in the eye. "I'll let you win next time, okay?"_

_ Some people thought I was too mature for my age. I had no idea what they meant by that, and always just thanked them even though it maybe wasn't the appropriate reply._

_ I stopped brushing his face when he stopped quivering in front of me. And when he stopped quivering, it was like he'd stopped breathing as well. "Matt?" His eyes rolled back into his head, and I pushed him away from me in shock. He fell to the ground, convulsing._

_ "Matt!" someone yelled from a distance. I raised my head and saw Matt's mom, Mrs. Andrews, running down the street and to us. "What did you do!?" She knelt next to her son and I was left as the only one standing, looking down at the sight._

_ I was horrified. "I—I didn't do anything."_

_ Matt had stopped convulsing, but his eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell in a slow pace. Mrs. Andrews turned her gaze to me, anger clear in her eyes. She shouted, "You hit him!"_

_ "What? NO!"_

_ "You did! You hit him! Look!" She grabbed my wrist and pulled me down to her height, and from that point I noticed the large bump forming on the side of Matt's face; exactly what a bruise from a punch would have looked like._

_ "I didn't hit him," I insisted, trying to pull away from the woman's tight grip._

_ She was relentless. "You were with him the whole day! YOU HIT HIM!"_

_ "I DIDN'T HIT HIM!" That was when I grabbed Mrs. Andrews' wrist, tight. I only meant to make her loosen her hold, but instead, she yelped and let go of me completely, cradling her hand in her arm. I looked closer and saw a discoloration appearing just below the butt of her hand It was shaped like fingers had been wrapped around it._

_ I backed away from her as she stared at me in shock. "What _are_ you?"_

_ I ran for my house as fast as possible, trying to block out the yells of protest coming from behind me._

_ Tears streaked down my face as I burst through the door of my house. "Arya?" my mother called. She appeared from behind the kitchen doorway and immediately noticed that I was crying._

_ She knelt in front of me and held me in her arms. I shook against her, mumbling "I didn't do anything" over and over again. My mom placed her chin on my head, caressing my back._

_ "What happened?" she asked once. I didn't answer her because I didn't know either. She didn't ask again._

_ We were having dinner when there came a knock on the door. My mother immediately excused herself, offering me a reassuring smile before leaving the table. I looked to my father, afraid, but also knowing that he had been informed about everything._

_ He smiled and put his hand on top of mine. "It'll be fine, sweetie."_

_ Then there was a loud bang, and Mrs. Andrews came bounding into the dining room. Her eyes were still bloodshot from crying but she didn't look sad that time anymore. "YOU'RE A WITCH!" she screeched, pointing at me. "YOU'RE A FUCKING WITCH!"_

_ I cringed, sliding deeper into my chair when she took a step towards me. "We should burn you right now," she said, just before my father got up from his chair and put his hands on her arms._

_ He started pushing her out of the room, and Mrs. Andrews kept yelling as he did, yelling that they would burn me in front of my parents. I started crying sometime after my dad had locked the woman out the door, and even then I could still hear her accusations._

_ After that my mom immediately led me up to my room, holding me to her. She kept muttering, "It'll be alright… It'll be alright…" I didn't know if she was talking to herself or to me, though I liked to imagine the latter._

_ Once we reached my bedroom, I rushed to my bed and grabbed for a pillow. I held it to my chest, but when my mother sat next to me I threw it away and hugged her instead, clutching her like a lifeline._

_ "I'm sorry, mom. I'm sorry." I sobbed into her chest, waiting for her to tell me it was alright again._

_ At some point, she removed my arms from around her waist and held both my hands to her stomach. She pulled me into her and I laid my head against her chest, watching as she opened my palms and placed her hands on top of mine._

_ I could still hear Mrs. Andrews yelling outside the door when I noticed my mother had gone rigid against me. I pulled away, already shaking in fear, and screamed when I saw what I had done._

* * *

Arya bolted upright in her bed, a yell dying out in her throat.

It was still dark out, and looking to the clock on her bedside table, she saw that it was 3 in the morning; only a few hours more until the others woke up. Luckily, no one had heard her scream. And luckily, she hadn't been screaming the whole time in her sleep. Arya decided that she was better off staying awake for the rest of the night, or at least until someone else other than herself could keep her company.

_Drown it all out,_ she told herself.

She put on the shorts Raven had lent to her—ultimately her _only_ pair of shorts—and slipped on her jacket before starting on her way to the bar. She hadn't gone anywhere else yet, except for the Game Room because Sean had challenged her to a game of pool. She had won.

Coincidentally, the bar held the vastest amount of liquor Arya had seen in her life, and she had seen a fair few back at Carlsbad. Across the room, past the small tables paired with two sets of chairs, was the counter.

It was a long counter.

Reaching both sides of the room, it easily could have seated more than a dozen _couples_. Behind that counter was the alcohol storage: column after column after column of bottles that held quite possibly the most expensive liquor of the age.

She easily slid over the counter and snatched up a bottle of scotch as she went. Holding it up to her face, she saw the price and gagged. "Jesus…" Arya quickly grabbed a glass from the countertop and poured. It was only when she took a large first gulp that she realized how old the liquor must have been.

Arya watched herself make a face on the smooth, glassy surface of the countertop. She laughed afterwards, because her face had looked so horrid and the scotch was so strong. It woke her right up. After placing a few cubes of ice into her glass, she decided that she was hype enough to start experimenting.

In front of her, on the counter, she made a single row consisting of six cocktail glasses. Before anything else, however, she placed a single lemon on the installed chopping board and made a garnish for each of the glasses. Then she grabbed the cocktail shaker.

For the first glass, she mixed cranberry juice, vodka, tonic, and two cubes of ice. Afterwards, Crème De Cacao, Gin, and Whiskey. _I think I'm suicidal,_ she thought to herself as she poured the mixture into the second glass. The third glass then consisted of Cognac, lime juice, and gin—with five cubes of ice just to be safe. She mixed passion fruit juice and Vodka for the fourth glass, and Whiskey with Cognac and cranberry juice for the fifth.

For the last glass she poured a butt load of Tequila and Gin.

Arya stared down at the "cocktails" in front of her, snickering. _I'm gonna regret this tomorrow._

When she had finally finished all of them, her head was spinning and her stomach was in curls. Sometimes, she wished Chloe hadn't taught her to be such a carefree spirit, because more times than a few, her decisions would bite her in the ass afterwards. This was one of those times.

Arya sat herself down on one of the chairs and placed her head in her hands. "Damn." She still felt floozy and was positive that she was going to throw up any second. It probably would have been better if she did, anyway, so that it wouldn't be a problem during training the next day.

Grimacing, she stood up and stumbled to the nearest bathroom, which was a considerably far way down the hall.

In a bright flash of luck and extreme effort, she made it inside without puking. Arya fell to her knees and pulled the toilet seat up just as the first waves of nausea hit her.

When she was done, the bathroom smelled of alcohol mixed with stomach bile. "Note to self," Arya said, rinsing her mouth, "Never experiment with unfamiliar beverages."

For a while, she flailed around the bathroom trying to look for a can of air freshener. It was sad that the house had everything else but that. Eventually, she ended up pressing liquid soap into the toilet and flushing so the smell would go away. To her amusement and satisfaction, it worked.

And after rinsing her mouth with another dash of strong mouthwash, Arya opened the door… to reveal a bleary-eyed Sean.

Arya bit back her laughter as the teen mumbled incoherent things about toilet sprays and Safeguard. He rocked on his feet, and Arya steadied him before practically guiding him into the newly-scented bathroom. "Knock yourself out," she said, grinning from ear to ear. She set him down on the toilet lid, careful, so as to not break him out of his dazed state. As she walked away, she could hear Sean's loud snores coming from inside the room and had to keep herself from laughing out loud.

She passed a wall clock and saw that only two hours had passed since she'd first gotten out of bed. She wondered what time Charles would be waking the others up. _Hopefully, only after three more hours._

She went to the Game Room next, played a few solo-rounds of pool and darts, and got bored. An hour had passed. It was then a few minutes after 6.

After grabbing a towel from a random rack, Arya made her way to the swimming pool next; her last detour. As she'd said before, chlorine-filled pools had never been her thing. And it wasn't. But she didn't really see anything else to do as she wasn't in the mood for gym. The shooting range was out of the question seeing as the gunshots would wake almost everybody up.

_Swimming it is then._

The first few rays of sunlight had started peeking through the trees across the house. The stars were already gone, and soon the moon would be too. Beneath her feet, the grass crunched, and Arya frowned. It wasn't as pleasant a sensation as trudging through the smooth sand of a beach; it was much more different than that. The grass was coated with dew, making it slightly more slippery.

Arya walked on and eventually reached the pool.

It was almost as wide as the house. Almost. The water was still and when Arya dipped her finger in, it was cool as well. A shame, considering the morning was already chilly, but Arya settled for it in the end.

She looked around her and at the windows of the house, making sure that indeed no one was awake yet, and when she was positive that she coast was clear, she stripped. Within seconds, she was left in only her underwear—as she hadn't brought herself to the trouble of looking for a swimsuit.

_There's no one else around anyway,_ she assured herself, dipping her toes in first.

Her body's reaction was immediate.

A heavy shiver ran up her spine and shook her to the core. Arya gasped, almost falling into the pool but steadying herself just in time. Her feet had then been completely submerged in the water. They had gone numb from the cold, but as Arya waited, the numbness slowly went away.

So, taking a deep breath, she pushed herself off the side and into the water.

As expected, the feeling went out of her limbs as soon as she was fully submerged. It was a hassle just to swim back up, but she did. As quietly as she possibly could have, she broke the surface and took in a large gulp of air.

Her undergarments had then been soaked. Arya shook like a leaf, but nevertheless kept wading through the water. A happier memory resurfaced in her mind and Arya gratefully recollected.

* * *

_"Arya, come on!" Chloe complained, shaking me roughly._

_ I brushed her off. "Chloe, I am _not _going skinny dipping with you."_

_ "It'll be fun," she said, insistent. She made a move to grab my shoulders again but I backed up. She was grinning like a madman. "Please?"_

_ "Do you even know how many perverts there are in Carlsbad?" I said in a scolding manner. This was one of those times in which I was being the responsible adult and Chloe was being the juvenile teen. Of course, that could easily be the other way around with a few more shots of whiskey._

_ "Yes!" Chloe said, laughing._

_ "Then you know _why_—"_

_ "But we'll just kick their asses anyway!" said Chloe, ultimately succeeding in her goal to grab my shoulders again. She shook me as she said, "We'll do it super late, like, _after_ midnight. No one will be there."_

_ "Everyone will be there!"_

_ She snickered. "That's not true. No one goes swimming after midnight."_

_ I rolled my eyes. "There'll be _freaks_ there!"_

_ "Will you _please_ beat their asses with me?" My friend looked at me through her eyelashes, and I knew this to be her pleading-with-the-devil face._

_ "Chloe…" She nodded her head once and enlarged her eyes. I sighed. "Chlo, you know that the semi-finals are tomorrow, right?"_

_ "We'll do it after! Tomorrow night! Celebration, right?"_

_ I looked at her for a long while. Her eyes were bleary and her breath smelled like alcohol; the traits of a true Californian. If there was anything this girl wasn't, it was responsible._

_ And I promised myself I'd strive to be like her._

_ I shook my head, sighing. "I'm not drunk enough for this."_

* * *

By that time, Arya was no longer troubled by the temperature of the water. She'd stayed for at least an hour already and it felt warm. She was getting bored, however, but refused to get out of the water. _Not yet,_ she kept telling herself. What would she do if she did get out anyway? It would only take her less than a half hour to take a bath, and by then the others still wouldn't have been awake.

No one was awake now.

There had been an idea floating around in her mind, but it had seemed so silly. And yet, she found herself wanting to do it anyway.

So, Arya got out of the water. She ignored the cool air enveloping her wet self and looked for a small pebble. She found one not far from the pool. It was the size of her palm, and would do well for an underwater scavenger hunt. She positioned herself by the pool's ledge, holding her hand out in front of her as she closed her eyes. With little effort, she threw the pebble as hard as she could, but making sure that it didn't simply pass over the water.

When Arya heard a splash, she dove in and started looking.

By the time Arya pulled herself out of the pool for the fifteenth time, her arms were sore and her eyes burned from being opened underwater for so long. The skin on her hands and feet were crinkled like an old lady's, and tender. She was mildly positive she got her foot cut somewhere along the seventh throw. Luckily for her, however, signs of life inside the house were finally showing themselves.

Arya discarded the pebble, now clean as a shell from being tossed into the water so many times. She wrung her hair before putting her shirt back on, ignoring the way it clung to her wet body. However, she didn't put her shorts on. They were her only pair and she didn't want them wet before she could use them again.

From inside the house, Arya heard a distant yell; a startled yell.

She grinned, guessing that someone had found Sleepwalking Sean dozing on the toilet seat.

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**some background because why not hahaha**

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	6. Chapter 6 - Breakfast Banter

**I OWN NOTHING OF THE MARVEL UNIVERSE, ONLY MY OC-ARYA-AND HER FICTIONAL INVOLVEMENT IN THIS STORY.**

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**Chapter 6**

**DAY 1**

When Arya got out of the bathroom—the first one she could find downstairs and _not_ the one in her room because she couldn't have exactly climbed multiple sets of stairs dripping wet and without wearing shorts, could she?—, she was surprised to find Raven standing in the middle of the hallway. She had a large duffel bag in her arms.

"Here," she said, throwing Arya the bag. "I bought some clothes for you considering yours are probably lost somewhere in Division X."

Arya caught the bag, grunting at its weight. She frowned, asking, "When did you go shopping?"

"Yesterday, while you were busy drinking and playing pool with the boys."

She couldn't help but smile at the sarcastic tone in her voice. But she was soon confused as to how the blonde knew what her size was. She voiced out her concern and Raven merely shrugged her shoulders. "We're the same size… almost," the mutant said before abruptly turning around and walking the other way.

Arya blinked, watching as Charles passed Raven by with a clipboard in his hands, as Hank climbed up the stairs wearing his shirt the wrong side, as Alex walked by her without giving her a second glance despite the fact that she was only wrapped in a towel. He was mumbling something about tape and broken windows.

Only half an hour of being lost to the world in a bathroom, and the mansion was already bustling with activity.

Arya closed the door behind her, not expecting everyone to be so active as soon as they were. She dropped the toilet lid and put the bag on top. Zipping it open, she found at least four pairs of jogging pants and sleeveless tops—no doubt for the rigorous training they were supposedly going to go through. Beneath those, however, were clothes fit for going out. Underneath the countless blouses and jeans were undergarments. She didn't know how Raven made it fit into a single duffel bag, but was thankful nevertheless.

Raven hadn't been lying either. Everything was indeed her size. Arya picked out a pair of workout clothes. And as soon as she was dressed, she slipped her jacket on and zipped the duffel bag closed. She jogged up the flights of stairs and into her room, where she plopped the bag onto her bed. It made a dull thud as Arya reached for the brush on her bedside table. Her eyes flit to the mirror across the room and she saw that her hair was a tangled mane.

After combing out the mess, she gathered it into a loose braid down the side of her chest before rushing down the stairs, already hearing the familiar clattering of spoons and forks.

She found almost everyone else gathered in the living room. Hank, Alex, and Sean sat on plush bean bag chairs, having a very intense conversation with each other. Even from afar, Arya could hear the words _pancake_ and _waffle_ being repeated several times. Across from them, Erik leaned against the wall by the window. Hovering around and above his hand was the unmistakable luster of a brass coin. He regarded Arya from where he stood, nodding his head in greeting. Arya nodded back before looking away and to the kitchen, where most of the noise seemed to be coming from. Arya peeked inside the doorway.

Inside, Raven and Charles were busy beating what Arya assumed to be pancake batter. They had separate bowls, and to either of their sides was a single plate. On Charles' side was a plate topped with waffles, on Raven's was a stack of pancakes. The two seemed to be on an ongoing competition, for when Arya walked in; announcing her arrival, neither of them stopped beating.

Charles barely looked up, only slowing down enough for him to be able to say, "Hello, Arya." After that he was focused on the batter again.

Arya grinned when Raven held her hand out to her. "You mind passing that plate to me, Arya?" Arya looked to where she was pointing and handed the plate to her. As soon as it touched her fingertips, Raven pulled it away and placed it on the countertop next to her. "Thank you," she said.

She was clearly winded and both of them were _clearly_ having a race of sorts—on who could make the most, perhaps? Arya, still grinning, patted them both on the shoulder as hard as she could, just to irritate them, and maybe because she was in high spirits. She looked to either of their plates, whereas Raven had already made two batches.

"You better step up your game, Charles," Arya said. "Raven's winning."

"Ha!" Raven grinned but didn't stop whisking.

Charles released a large huff of air, frowning down at his bowl. "Thank you, Arya, you may leave now."

Walking out of the kitchen, Arya noticed that all of the men in the room were wearing the same outfits: grey hoodies, grey sweatpants. Alex was the only one even close to being clothed in something different; his hoodie didn't have sleeves. Arya took a peek into the kitchen again and found Raven wearing almost the exact same thing that she was wearing.

Charles was wearing a hoodie and sweatpants as well, though Arya suspected that he'd change out of them before the end of the day. She started thinking, then, on why she had to wear training clothes. Her powers didn't exactly consist of physical exertion. But then, maybe she'd go to the gym later that day; hopefully accompanied by Raven.

Arya took her seat on a wooden chair, picking a random book from the bookshelf behind her before crossing her legs. She leafed through the pages, not really reading whole paragraphs. Her fingers mindlessly fiddled with the tip of her braid. She found out that it was a book written by Charles Darwin. And as it _was_ written by Charles Darwin, the subject matter was relatively boring to her. After a few minutes of skipping chapters and jumping through huge gaps of pages, she finally set it down beside her.

Feeling eyes on her, she looked up, surprised to find Erik staring right at her. "Is it uninteresting?" he asked, his arms crossed.

Arya pouted, feigning disappointment. "There weren't any pictures," she whined, laughing afterwards when Erik rolled his eyes. She watched intently as he levitated a stainless steel pencil holder off a table across the room, making it float towards him.

"I can't levitate just anything, you know," he said, abruptly letting the pencil holder drop into his hand.

Arya raised her eyebrows. "Hm?"

"When we first met, Charles told me that you assumed _Tucker_, being me…" he stopped for a moment, letting his words sink in. Arya smiled, remembering the stupid nickname she'd given him the first time they met. Erik continued, "He told me that you were thinking that I can move objects."

"Well, can't you?"

"I can, but only things that contain any type of metal." He made the pencil holder float back to its place on the desk at the other side of the room, and while his eyes followed it, his one hand was busy flipping the brass coin between and through his fingers. When the pencil holder was safely on top of the desk once more, he looked at Arya. "Just thought you should know."

Arya nodded her head slowly, slightly embarrassed with her powers of deduction. "Thanks," she muttered, sending the older mutant a sheepish smile before looking away, suddenly awkward.

Then a thought occurred to her, and she barely bit back a smile, putting on her best serious face as she turned her gaze to Erik once more. "Do you mind if I start calling you Tucker?"

Erik only looked slightly amused. "I believe my current codename is _Magneto_."

Suddenly, there was a loud yelp from the initial location of the beanbag chairs, and then a thud. Sean's head poked out from behind Alex's muscly figure. His eyes were wide, sparkling. "I'm sorry; did I hear the name Magneto?" The two boys with him snickered, and Arya threw them a sneer before looking back to her current matter. Erik smirked from where he stood, but otherwise said nothing else. Arya then started busying herself with a rather large scab on her elbow, an injury she'd gotten during one of her volleyball matches in Carlsbad. She'd been trying to nick her fingers beneath the hard skin in hopes to pull it off and stop the incessant itching.

When Raven yelled something from the kitchen, Arya was startled enough to pull the scab right off.

"Ow!" she yelled, stomping her foot on the floor to keep from cursing. "God!" The pain was gone quickly, but because of the abruptness of pulling off the hardened blood, there was a throbbing on where the wound would have been.

Amused chortles came from behind her, where the rest of the mutants had gone off to get their share of pancakes and waffles. Arya allowed herself another groan of annoyance before standing up and following them into the kitchen.

Charles smirked at her when she walked in, holding a plate out to her. "Need a Band-Aid?"

"Shut up," Arya grumbled, snatching the plate from his hands while she stuck her tongue out at him like a child. The sound of his laughter followed her out the door.

They ate in the living room, the noise consistent but not as loud as it always was in Carlsbad. There were only seven of them. Moira wasn't with them, for reasons Arya didn't even bother to ask about. She wanted nothing to do with her grumpy behavior.

Hank, Sean, and Alex had retreated back to their beanbag chairs, where they continued arguing once more about waffles and pancakes. Each of them took large bites out of their food, chewing it as loudly as they could as if to prove a point. Among all of them, Hank seemed to be the only one speaking logically, which really didn't give him an advantage considering the things Sean was spurting out his mouth: "That's not true", "That's a lie", "Are you even listening to yourself?" Most of the time, Alex was just hanging back and laughing at Hank's useless retorts.

Raven had grabbed a seat next to Arya, immediately starting the conversation by bringing up what had occurred in the kitchen, explaining to her everything that happened before Arya came in.

Arya listened to her, the grin never leaning her face. She would bust in from time to time, only being able to squeeze in a "Really?" or a "Damn", but most of the time she was just laughing. Arya didn't mind not being able to talk much. The foul drinks she'd concocted earlier that day had started taking their toll, and she found that she wasn't able to form complete sentences properly. She didn't look at Raven while she was talking, instead keeping her eyes on the floor. Her friend didn't seem to find. They kept talking while they ate, Arya only taking small bites at her pancakes (and waffles) because her stomach was coiling.

_"Are you alright?"_

Arya's eyes snapped to the right, where Charles and Erik were having a conversation by the window; or _had been_ having a conversation. They weren't talking anymore, both their eyes set on Arya.

She glared half-heartedly at the telepath. _"I'm fine,"_ she projected in her head as best as she could, letting her glare stay on him for a while longer before turning her gaze one more to Raven.

It was only then that she noticed the blonde had stopped talking. Arya met Raven's eyes, feigning confusion but dropping the act instantly when she asked, "What just happened?"

Arya shrugged sheepishly. "What do you mean?" Suddenly, her pancakes didn't seem so appetizing anymore. She put the plate down on her lap, making a face.

"Why were you staring at him?" Raven insisted, a smile lighting her face up. "Did he talk to you? In here?" She tapped her temple, and Arya didn't know whether to be afraid or confused.

"He did…"

"Well, what did he say?"

For some reason, Arya couldn't meet her eyes, suddenly guilty for possibly getting in-between her and the professor. They'd clearly been close for a very long time, and Arya didn't want to get between that kind of relationship. "Raven, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

She stopped talking when Raven started laughing. Loudly. She was still laughing when Arya looked around, smiling uncomfortably at the staring eyes before settling her gaze back on the now-somber blonde.

"Arya, what are you _talking_ about?" she exclaimed, leaning forward. Her breath smelled like syrup and butter. "This is a good thing."

"Wait…" Arya put a finger up, gesturing for her friend not to interrupt her. She thought deeply for a second before speaking again. "What are _you_ talking about?"

Raven put her plate down on the table beside her before leaning forward again, and when she spoke her voice was low enough that Arya had to dip her head closer as well.

"I think Charles _likes_ you."

It was Arya's turn to laugh, now, but she didn't do it noisily. She put her hands over her mouth to keep the noise dull. Raven stared at her with an incredulous expression. "What? I'm serious!"

"Why would you even _think_ that?" The laughing eventually subsided, but her shoulders still shook from time to time as she remembered.

"He doesn't stop talking about you, Arya!" Raven kept her voice hushed, though Arya could hear her obvious excitement. "He thinks you're absolutely _amazing_."

Arya noted the slight mock-accent in her tone, and gulped. "Are you quoting?"

"Yes!"

Arya's heart dropped into her stomach as the word was in a continuous loop in her head. _Amazing… amazing… amazing…_ Who would even say that about a person? Would Charles really say that about a person? Unless…

"Raven…" she started, realization dawning on her. "Did you tell him about my powers?"

"Well, yeah." Arya immediately fumed, but Raven made her point before she could say anything. "He needs to know about it if he's going to teach you how to control it, Arya."

"_I_ was going to tell him," Arya snapped. "Okay? In my _own_ time."

"Sorry…"

Arya took slow, deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves. She told herself that it was just the nerves talking. And maybe it was. "It's okay. I'm sorry I snapped." She smiled at her friend, putting her hand on her shoulder. "Let's just forget about it, alright?"

She watched intently as Raven nodded her head, and then drew her attention to the telepath in the middle of the room.

Charles clapped his hands together, effectively silencing the three chattering mutants on the beanbags. "I think it's time we start our training," he said, loud enough so that everyone in the room could hear. He motioned to Hank. "Hank, you'll go first. Meet me outside in five minutes, yes? Sean, Alex, I'll contact you when it's your turn. Just keep your minds open to me, and we won't have a problem."

At that, the people in the room dispersed. Arya followed Raven to the gym, mostly guilty that the originally bouncy blonde was so quiet. She made it a point to change that, within the day.


	7. Chapter 7 - First Tries

**I OWN NOTHING OF THE MARVEL UNIVERSE, ONLY MY OC-ARYA-AND HER FICTIONAL INVOLVEMENT IN THIS STORY.**

**p.s. - the romance WILL be a main part of this story, so for some of you guys, you'll just have to deal with it. sorry for any inconveniences.**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

The leg and stomach exercises Raven put her through weren't much of a problem. But when they started with the dumbbells, Arya found that she wasn't much of a strong person as she was agile.

She and Raven were lifting 25 lb. dumbbells consecutively on each hand when Arya finally dropped hers onto the floor, her triceps burning. It was a good thing that the bench they were currently sitting on stood over a matted floor too; else Arya would have thought that the dumbbell would break straight through the wood.

"Jesus," she exclaimed, dropping her arms to the side. She heard her friend chuckle beside her and scowled. "Volleyball was never about _strength_."

"It does help though," Raven retorted.

Arya shrugged, exhaling a huge puff of breath. "It does." She picked her dumbbells off the floor and started over. Their plan was to reach at least forty lifts. Arya was just lucky her friend hadn't added "each".

By the time she _finally_ reached forty, Raven was already on fifty when Arya put her dumbbells down. Her face was red and sweaty from exertion, and her arms were shaking, exhausted. "There!" she said, still breathing heavily. "Forty lifts! Now can we _please_ move on?"

She watched as Raven lifted her dumbbells another three times before finally putting them down. She looked at Arya, her face sweaty but definitely not as red as hers.

"Alright," Raven said. "Time for the barbells, then?" She winked before standing up, walking to the Olympic style flat bench by the window. There were exactly two, the second one at the other side of the room. Arya groaned, but otherwise went there.

They lied down and Raven started immediately, lifting the barbells off the stand and counting in pants. "One… two… three…"

Arya stared at her. She'd only ever lifted a barbell once, when Chloe had just _happened_ across two coupons for the local gym in Carlsbad. Neither of them ever reached above twenty lifts, though if you looked past the breaks they had, it would have been possible.

"Can't we just do push-ups or something?" Arya complained, hesitating as she wrapped her fingers around the handle of the barbell. "That helps with the muscles, right?"

Raven panted, not stopping her lifting when she said, "This is the better method."

Arya rolled her eyes. "You're starting to sound a lot like Charles." Finally, she pushed on the barbell, using every amount of strength she could muster, and when her arms were stretched all the way, she let her elbows sink back to her sides, the barbell still hanging above her. In a way, it was easier than a dumbbell on each hand. Here, she could use both hands lifting one.

But that didn't make it any less physically draining.

At some point, she noticed Hank pass by outside the window and guessed that he was done with his training. Made sense. Approximately, an hour had already passed, and Arya didn't really know what else Charles could teach him about his mutation.

She grinned, however, when Raven put her barbell down just to wave at him.

She had reached ten lifts when she felt another presence in the room. The barbell lightened up in her hands before it floated away from her completely.

Unfortunately, Raven was more startled than her. She jumped up from her lying position, knocking one of her stands over. Both of them looked over to the new mutant in the room. And while Raven was surprised, Arya was pissed.

"What the hell, Erik?" she hissed.

"If you're using half your concentration to look normal, then you're only half paying attention to whatever else you're doing," he said, ignoring Arya and keeping his eyes on Raven as he strut into the room. "Just pointing out something that could save your life."

Arya watched Raven's reaction from where she sat, and saw all her efforts in making her feel better wash down the drain.

Just then, the barbell floating above their heads dropped. And while Raven's instant reaction was to catch it, Arya's was to evade. She immediately rolled off the bench, barely being able to get her feet beneath her when they touched the floor. The barbell landed on the floor just a few inches away from the bench with a metallic clang, the weight plates connecting with the stands noiselessly.

After a while, the sound and shock subsided. Arya's head snapped to the side and she found Raven in her blue form, holding the barbell above her head effortlessly while she looked at Erik.

"You want society to accept you," Erik said. "But you can't even accept yourself."

He turned around, and Arya suspected that he was just about to walk out when he turned to her. "You're quick," he told her. _Then_ he walked out.

"Damn straight," Arya yelled after him. She straightened up, taking a quick glance at her friend before looking down at the barbell on the floor. She winced, imagining her neck stuck and broken beneath the handle if she hadn't been able to move away in time.

She pulled it off the floor and back onto the stands, eyeing it coldly. "Hey, Raven? Do you think we could—?"

"Yeah," Raven interrupted, sliding off her bench and putting the stand back up, all while holding her barbell aloft with one hand. "Let's do more tomorrow, okay?" She placed her barbell onto the stands again before walking out of the room.

Arya, though left behind, noticed that her friend was still in her blue form and thought that maybe Erik had a point. Raven was already strong, only her concentration was elsewhere. _"Just pointing out something that could save your life."_

Did he have to do it in such a rude way, though?

* * *

Arya was walking down the hall, just about to take a shower when she felt the slightest pinprick of pain at the back of her head. _Charles._

_"Arya, would you mind coming outside for a while?"_

She tried to do what she had done earlier that day, talking to him with her mind. _"For what?"_ she thought, as loud and as hard as she could.

_"You don't have to shout,"_ the telepath replied, sounding annoyed and amused at the same time. Arya grinned. _"Sean might need someone to catch him in case he can't use his power."_

_ "You mean in case he falls,"_ she added, but nevertheless started to the door leading to the back. He wasn't going to fall. He was going to push himself over the edge. As far as she knew, Charles had a theory that Sean's supersonic yell would enable him to fly. As expected, it was really possible.

Coincidentally, she passed by a large basket containing biking helmets. She took one for herself and put it on her head, smiling. Charles hadn't really explained to her what she would be doing if Sean fell. She couldn't exactly _catch_ him; she wasn't Superman. She was guessing that she was going to either catch him with one of Hank's contraptions, or she was going to be the cushion.

Both had high chances of getting her hurt.

_Safety first._

She was still surprised that Charles would ask Sean to do something he clearly didn't know how to yet. It was only their first day. Sean wouldn't be able to control his powers in an intense moment of falling through air. He could barely control it when he was just aiming to break a few rows of glass.

When Arya stepped outside, no one was really downstairs with her. She looked up to find them all staring down the windows at her, in fact. Behind one window were Erik, Alex, and Raven. Behind the other were Charles, Hank, and the man of the hour. Sean was sitting on the windowsill, his legs dangling over it. Arya could hear the two men beside him instructing him.

"Now, remember," Charles said. "Scream as hard as you can."

"You need the sound waves to be supersonic," Hank added. "Catch them at the right angle and they should carry you."

Sean pursed his lips. "They _should_ carry me. That's reassuring." As Charles and Hank patted him on the shoulder and backed away from the ledge, he looked down at Arya and yelled. "You're there to catch me, right?"

"Maybe," Arya replied. Sean grimaced and she knocked on her helmet a few times, grinning. She held her arms up, showing him the image of her catching him. "Come on, Sean! We don't have all day!"

"Yes we do!" he yelled back. Arya heard Charles say something else in the background and watched as Sean made the sign of the cross. Across him, Alex snickered. Arya made quick work with the bushes in front of her, having to move or break some of the small branches to make sure they wouldn't impale her friend.

When all looked safe, and the bushes were then a make-shift cushion, she gave Sean a thumbs-up. He returned the gesture and spread his arms, revealing the black and yellow colored wings Hank had designed for him. He took a deep breath, leaned forward, and pushed off.

As soon as Arya heard him scream, she immediately jumped away from her spot and into the bushes behind her. She had expected to hear the loud wailing of Banshee, but instead heard a body landing hard into the bush-cushion. She pushed herself off the ground and saw Sean crawling away from the bush-cushion, groaning. Above them, the others were laughing; apart from Charles and Hank, who were talking rather discreetly, but even Arya could see the amusement on their faces.

She grinned, trotting up to Sean and pulling him up by the arms. His hoodie and sweatpants had some tears and dirt on it, along with his hands and face, but otherwise he looked fine. No scratches.

"That didn't go so well, huh?" Arya said, patting him on the back. Sean glanced at her and she saw that his face was beet red with embarrassment. She laughed, slipping the helmet off her head and placing it on his instead. "Don't worry about it! You'll get it next time."

What happened was only to be expected, and Arya supposed that Charles knew that as well. He probably just wanted to see what would have happened. Arya only wondered if Hank had been asked to make Sean's wings beforehand.

For the next few hours, Arya stayed outside and watched Sean train. Charles didn't make him jump through a window again. He made Sean yell and yell and yell for minutes on end, and Arya guessed that it was so he could get used to activating and deactivating his mutation at will.

Arya sat on the grass on her own, as Raven was finally spending some quality time with Hank. Alex and Erik had gone off she knew not where.

From time to time, Charles would invade her thoughts—as she had brought on the habit of getting lost in thought when she wasn't preoccupied with something—and ask her if she'd "like to join them". Arya would only send a small smile back, secretly hoping that he hadn't seen any of the memories that had been running through her brain.

When Sean was sent back inside to rest his throat—as he had started complaining that it hurt—Arya was only minimally disappointed that Charles had called for Alex next. Some part of her was still afraid of showing her power to him, mostly because she knew that he was going to improve them. Arya was afraid that she would lose control.

She went to the living room, passing Charles by. Alex trailed behind him, carrying a mannequin. Arya smirked and raised a questioning eyebrow. "I see you plan on having some fun while you're here, yeah, Alex?"

He grinned back at her. "It was the professor's idea."

"Charles?"

Charles slowed his walking. "Indeed, it was my idea." His voice was serious, but the smile on his face said differently.

"Alright," Arya nodded after them as they walked away. "Have fun, you two!" Alex raised an arm and sent her a thumbs-up for a short moment, while Charles just held his hand up in a see-you-soon gesture.

Throughout the rest of the day, Arya stayed in the living room. With a glass in her hand and a bottle of mild whiskey beside her, she alternated from reading books and watching TV—mostly watching TV because whichever book she picked was either too intellectual for her to handle, or contained a boring subject matter.

She would feel the frequent rumbling of the ground beneath her, and sometimes hear the noisy blaring of alarms somewhere in the distance. It was either the sound of heat sensors being activated, or something else. However, Arya knew for a fact that the recurrent shaking of the ground was due to Alex's power. It was obvious enough, even though she'd seen what he could do only twice before.

It was getting dark out when Charles and Alex walked into the mansion again, Alex holding a charred, slightly disfigured mannequin in his hands. Arya judged from the unhappy look on his face that their first training session hadn't gone very well. She said nothing as they passed by, only nodding her head in acknowledgement at Charles when he glanced at her. He nodded back and nothing more.

* * *

That night, all of them feasted on homemade baked pasta topped with grilled eggplants. "It's traditional beach food!" Arya explained, practically jumping in excitement at the satisfied smiles on her friends' faces. "Of course, I had help." She shrugged and looked to Raven, who took a bite off her fork in obvious pleasure.

"It's good, yeah?"

"It's delicious!" Charles exclaimed, laughing as he chewed. "Arya, where did you learn how to cook like this?"

She winked at him, but didn't answer. She looked back down at her plate and was about to take another bite when Raven kicked her leg. Arya stared at her. "What?" Her friend kicked her again. "_Wha_—" She didn't finish the question, being silenced by yet another kick, and instead sent a cold glare.

"A wink?" Raven mouthed, the brightest of smiles on her face.

_At least she isn't quiet and dejected anymore,_ Arya thought to herself. She honestly had no idea what the blonde was talking about.

It was only when Raven kicked her again, though lighter this time, and nodded her head at Charles' initial direction across from them. Arya brought her head up as subtly as she could, and found that the telepath was blushing slightly. She almost choked on her food.

She looked back to her friend before Charles could notice her staring. "Jesus," she managed to say, still coughing. From the corner of her eye, she saw Raven barely containing a laugh. "Shut up."

At some point that night, Charles approached Arya. She was sitting in the bar with Raven, chatting about more serious matters; like the oncoming battle with Shaw, or Raven's concentrations being elsewhere, or Arya's mutation, or the blooming relationship between Hank and Raven—

"Hey!"

"What?" Arya asked innocently. "You think I don't notice the long hours you're _not_ with me?"

"We're just friends."

She scoffed, taking a tiny sip from her glass. "That's what everyone says."

Then she heard the door open and looked to see Charles striding into the bar. For some reason, Arya glanced at Raven. She didn't know whether it was panic or confusion; something in the back of her head told her, _Both._ It wasn't Charles talking.

"Arya," Charles said. He'd finally reached them and now stood in front of her, that winning smile of his plastered onto his face.

Arya forced herself to look away from Raven and to the telepath standing in front of her. "Yeah?"

"Hank won't be spending any more time training with me, and that leaves you, Erik, Sean, and Alex," he said. "When would you like to start your training?"

Arya thought about it for a moment. "Tomorrow's good." Charles nodded, apparently happy with her decision. "Although," she added with a slightly mischievous smile. "Could I go last? I sort of have some plans with Raven."

The telepath raised an eyebrow. "Plans?"

"At the gym," Raven inserted quickly, glancing at Arya. "She sort of needs to work on her muscles."

Charles laughed. "Alright, you're last up tomorrow then, Arya." He looked at her, clapping his hands once before walking away, and she could have sworn she caught the twinkle in his eyes.

Raven sighed as both of them stared after the telepath. "Told you."

* * *

**review review review! ^^**


	8. Chapter 8 - Remarkable

**fair warning: the romance starts to take effect here.**

**I OWN NOTHING OF THE MARVEL UNIVERSE, ONLY MY OC-ARYA-AND HER FICTIONAL INVOLVEMENT IN THIS STORY.**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

**DAY 2**

The next morning, Arya woke up to the noise of sirens blaring. Particularly, the sound of heat sensors going off and alarming the whole square piece of land they were on—that meant Alex was once again failing in aiming his powers right.

Arya groaned, pulling her pillow out from beneath her and placing it over her head (which let her feel a sort of familiar kind of pain throughout her body considering the workout she had the previous day). She pushed it against her ears in a desperate attempt to block the noise out, and for a moment, it worked. But then the ground shook. The chandelier above her head shuddered noisily, and the wall clock at the end of the room fell.

"Nooooo," Arya complained, throwing the only pillow she had to the initial direction of the clock before pulling the blankets up over her head.

Suddenly, there was a loud knocking on the door.

"Arya," Raven yelled on the other side. "Wake up! You missed breakfast!"

The only piece of good sleep she'd had in months, and she had to be woken up because the food was getting cold. What time had she fallen asleep last night anyway? Arya couldn't remember. Her mind was still muddled up and foggy from sleep, but one single thought strayed that was just about enough to get her to sit up.

_I'm going to use my powers again today._

Arya took a quick shower and ate lunch alone. Raven sat with her, though, running her through the different things they'd be doing in the gym that day. Arya was barely listening, her brain telling her that she was both excited and anxious about the upcoming session she would be having with Charles.

What would he teach her?

What would she _learn_?

Once in the gym, Arya was absent-mindedly slipping off her gloves—because who was stupid enough to train with gloves on—when Raven threw a dumbbell at her. Luckily, it was relatively smaller than the ones they'd been working with before, only 5 lb. Arya caught it with ease, but couldn't help feeling the slight tear in her muscles as gravity added the missing weight.

"What was that for?" she asked, sending a half-hearted glare to the only other mutant in the room as she gently placed the dumbbell down on the bench in front of her, along with her gloves.

Raven pointed accusingly at her. "If you're going to be training with _me_, your head needs to be down here on Earth instead of up there, thinking… whatever you were thinking."

"Nice choice of words."

"Thank you."

They spent a longer time in the gym that day than before. For most of the time, Raven was Arya's personal trainer. She made her do pull-ups, crunches; she even forced her to lift a barbell for over thirty times before finally letting her drop it. Literally. At some point, Arya had to jog around the room ten times—and the gym was about ¾ as big as the Olympic swimming pool outside. But they didn't stop there.

After the ten rounds of jogging, Arya had to go into the phase where Raven kept throwing her dumbbells; she had to catch them, do a single curl, let her hand drop back to her side while _still_ carrying the dumbbell, and then roll it to her trainer. Repeat. They did this for a while, before Arya caught one and just slid away from the spot; she literally caught one, dropped to her knees, sat down, and pushed herself so that she slid to the corner of the room.

Arya panted hard, letting the dumbbell roll out of her sweaty hand. "You know," she started. "If you think the muscles are gonna appear in the course of one week, you're dead wrong."

"I wasn't thinking that." Raven walked up to her before touching down at her side, her hands sprawled behind her. "You _are_ gonna continue this routine even after all this, right?"

"_Hell _no!" Arya laughed loudly, but then a thought occurred to her and she sobered up. "What makes you so sure I'll even get the chance to go back home, anyway?"

Raven frowned. "It's better than the alternative."

For a while, they were both silent; the only sound in the room their heavy breathing, and even that subsided eventually. "I think," Arya started, grimacing at the bitter taste in her mouth, "I'll have that drink now." She looked up and saw her friend nodding her head in approval.

Only when she helped her up did Arya finally remember that Raven was in her human blonde form. And that she'd taken off her gloves.

Where Arya's hand grasped Raven's wrist, the latter's skin slowly turned blue; scaly blue, before turning pale white. Beneath her eyelashes, Arya could see Raven staring down at her arm, where her mutation was slowly disappearing.

Before it could reach her neck, Arya pulled her hand away. She turned around and snatched her gloves off the bench at one side of the room, before grabbing two small towels. She handed one to Raven, deliberately not meeting the other's eyes. They walked out of the gym together, neither of them speaking. And Arya thought to herself, _That was a bad way to end a very good training session._

* * *

"Remarkable," Charles muttered, for what seemed to be the third time that afternoon. He was holding Arya's hands in his and it seemed that her powers had been able to cancel yet another mutation. He laughed. "That's amazing. I can't hear any of them."

Arya stared. "You mean… you can't…" She couldn't find the right words and therefore just raised a questioning eyebrow.

Charles smiled. "My mutation is being able to read people's thoughts, yes? When I don't want to, I can still hear a few whispers here and there. It's only when I concentrate hard enough on one person's thoughts that I am able to actually understand what they're thinking."

"So, you really can't hear anything anymore."

"It's quite a new feeling for me," he said, looking down at their hands.

They'd only been spending at least five minutes with each other; and most of the time, the telepath had his eyes closed, as if he expected Arya's mutation to somehow _not_ be able to keep him from using his powers. Charles had then given her a full explanation on his theory about her mutation.

Tentatively, Charles had told her that her mutation enabled her to halt another mutant's powers in its tracks, presumably with the help of the symbol on her hands. "It's just something I've noticed, really," he added. "When I held your hand and felt my mutation slipping away, it grew warm."

Arya furrowed her eyebrows. "I've noticed that too."

"Nothing happens when people touch other parts of your body, yes?"

It didn't sound like he was trying to make a dirty joke, so Arya nodded her head. She could see Charles smiling when she stared down at her palms, as if seeing them for the first time.

"When I touch people, _humans_, they get hurt," she said, looking up to the telepath with a worried frown on her face. "Is that normal?"

"Very normal, actually," he said softly. "Your mutation latches onto the irregular cells in a mutant's body, but with humans, there is _nothing_ for it to latch onto. Presumably, it just starts eating away at the cells until it finds something."

"And when it doesn't?"

She wanted an answer, mostly needed one, but Charles didn't provide one. He did, however, squeeze her hand. From the way he did it and the way he looked in her eyes, Arya could see the truth in Raven's notion about the telepath having affections for her. She felt like a deer caught in headlights, as they stared at one another for quite a long moment.

It was the professor who broke the silence, though didn't look at all happy about it. He cleared his throat and let go of her hands. For some reason, Arya found the abruptness of his act disheartening. "Close your eyes," he told her.

Arya blinked. "What?"

"I have another possible theory on what else your mutation can do, but in order for me to _confirm_ that theory; I need you to close your eyes." She hesitated at first, and didn't know why. Her afflictions wavered when Charles' gaze unstiffened. "Close your eyes," he repeated, and his voice echoed in her head enough for her to think that perhaps he was using his mind tricks on her again.

She followed his order that time, though. With a sigh, she let her eyelids slowly droop lower, until she could see nothing. "Okay," she muttered, still feeling the telepath's eyes on hers. "Now what?"

For a while, there was nothing. But Arya trusted the man enough to know that he was either delving in that brilliant mind of his, or he was waiting for results. She started counting in her head, and after thirty seconds of silence, she felt soft fingers touch her wrist. She'd only recently placed her hands on her lap, palms facing downward; some stubborn part of her was still afraid that a human would just come running into the room, maybe accidentally touch her hand, then that was it.

When Charles slipped his fingers beneath her wrists, apparently making a move to flip them over, Arya balled them into fists and pressed down on her thighs, hard. _"It'll only work if the symbol is facing up, Arya,"_ she heard Charles' voice say in her head. Her first reaction was to put her mental defenses up, but when she heard the telepath wince in discomfort, she repented and broke them down again.

Arya opened her eyes for a few seconds, taking in the strained look on the telepath's face in front of her. She sent him an apologetic look before turning her palms up. Then she closed her eyes again.

At first, nothing seemed to have changed. But when Arya took it upon herself to _try_ harder, she noticed the many alterations.

The first time she closed her eyes, there was nothing but darkness. Now, it was if she could see _everything_, even though she was positively sure that her eyes were still closed. Everything held a greyer tinge; the house's walls seemed to have gone translucent, and through them, Arya could see everyone: Raven in the bar, Alex and Erik in the gym, Sean and Moira outside. Their bodies were darker, almost black. But with each of them, Arya could see pulsing white lights in very specific parts of their body; Alex had his on his chest, Sean's in his throat, Erik's in his head. Raven's was tricky, for hers was all over her body. Moira was the only exception considering she was the only human in the group.

"Woah," Arya said. She heard a chuckle somewhere in front of her. Her eyes were still closed, but she _somehow_ turned her gaze to where the professor would have been.

He sat in front of her, his body the same dark tinge as the others'; the pulsing white light was in his head, much like Erik's, except his seemed to glow brighter, the sphere almost bigger.

When Arya opened her eyes, her vision reverted back to normal; everything in normal colors once more. She looked to Charles, wide-eyed.

He leaned forward, an interested look on his face, and asked, "What did you see?"

She told him everything, barely being able to hold back her ranting as she was clearly very excited about the whole ordeal. And Charles seemed so too. Once she was done, he put his finger on his chin, smiling to himself. "It seems that my theory was correct."

"What do you mean?"

"Those pulsing lights you were speaking of? Those were our _mutations_," he said. Arya wasn't at all confused by this, because she'd guessed the same the moment she opened her eyes. "They are in very specific parts of our bodies; Sean has his supersonic scream, Alex's must branch off somewhere from his chest, Erik and I have ours in our minds." He laughed, not taking his eyes off her. "Your power is truly remarkable."

"I think a more appropriate word for it would be _awesome_," Arya corrected. She definitely got used to terms from Carlsbad. "But… what do we do with it now?"

Charles once again took her hands in his, without warning. But this time, Arya didn't flinch away. "Close your eyes again," he instructed, and Arya did so.

Everything else had stayed the same; the tinge of her vision, the translucent walls, the mutations in the house; except, the pulsing light in Charles' brain seemed to have gone dull. It didn't glow as bright as before anymore. Arya opened her eyes, taking note of the warm feeling running through her fingers. "Your mutation's gone dull," she said.

The telepath nodded. "As expected. But _now_," he started. "We'll have to find out how you're going to see a mutation from a mile away with your eyes open." His blue-green eyes twinkled in a sort of playful kind of way.

For some reason, something clicked at the back of Arya's head. As if on instinct, she raised her hand so her palm was a few inches from the professor's face. Her eyes remained open. After a few moments, it worked. Her vision turned partly grey, and partly colored. The walls were only slightly translucent, then, but she could still see the mutants and the pulsing lights in each of them.

Arya grinned as she said, "Done."

Charles laughed, clapping. "Very good," he exclaimed, but turned serious shortly after. With furrowed eyebrows, he asked, "What's it like?"

"It's just like you said before. I could somehow feel _myself_ latching onto your mutation, through these." She gestured at her palms.

"So it's like your grabbing onto it?"

"Yes."

She honestly couldn't describe it any other way. As soon as Charles put his hands on hers, she could feel a tugging sensation at the back of her head. And when she closed her eyes, her mutation was working its way, _literally_, into his brain.

An impish look slowly made its way onto Charles' face. Arya stilled. He stood up, patted her on the knee, and walked so that he was standing behind his chair. He leaned over it until he was once more face to face with a very confused Arya. "Let's see if you can grab onto my mutation without touching me, hm?"

"Okay…" Arya managed a nervous laugh, staring at him. "Wait, you're _serious_ about that?"

"I am very serious."

He didn't move from his spot, and after a while, Arya saw that he was, indeed, _very serious_. She sent him a disbelieving look. "It's impossible!"

"Anything's possible," he retorted, the corners of his lips pulling upward. "You just have to try hard enough." He leaned back and looked at the roof. Arya guessed that he was teasing her, egging her on. When he glanced down at her for a fraction of a second, she sighed.

She stood up and walked until she was behind her chair as well, and after sending the telepath one last uncertain look, she raised both her hands, making her palms face him. Her vision gradually turned darker, and then she could see the pulsing white lights again. Her hands instinctively shot forward, but not enough so that she could touch Charles. His body was still several inches away.

Arya grunted in exertion. She could feel the tugging at the back of her head and the migraine that was sure to follow. The warm feeling had already spread across her hands, and it came to a piercing boil in the middle of her palm. She could see Charles' mutation pulsing waves in front of her, and something else too.

There was a slight haze crawling forth from her palms—where her mutation was pulsing—like thin little tendrils. It stopped halfway between her and Charles. Arya guessed that they were her power trying to get to the mind-reader's mutation. Wasn't she trying hard enough?

She willed the tendrils to move forward, and they did. Slowly, they crept closer to Charles' mutation. A migraine broke out in the back of her head and Arya lost her concentration. The tendrils snapped back into her palms and she huffed in frustration. She vaguely noticed Charles say something to her, but paid it no heed. As soon as the migraine faded, she tried again. This time, the haze coming from her hands reached more than halfway to their desired destination. It was only a few inches from Charles when Arya saw the light in his head pulse a particularly large wave of light.

_"Calm your mind, Arya,"_ she heard his voice in her head. _"Be calm."_

His voice vibrated through her skull, and she did what he said. She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. Within the confines of her mind, Arya willed the tendrils to go forward. They followed her, and within a few seconds, they made contact with Charles' mutation. Arya immediately made a grasping motion with one hand, and the haze encircled around the pulsing light.

The light died down. The pulsing became dull throbs. Arya slowly opened her eyes, keeping her vision on Charles' mutation. Her eyes were fully opened and the tendrils were still hanging on.

She managed a brief laugh out of pure delight. Vaguely, she could hear Charles laughing as well. His dull Technicolor body shook with laughter, and it was then that Arya finally let go. She relaxed her hand, flexing it as the tendrils slowly pulled back into her palms before the dullness in her vision reverted back to normal once more.

Only when she felt hands grip her shoulders did Arya snap out of her daze.

Charles was beaming. "Splendid job, Arya," he exclaimed, but she only half-heard him.

Her brain felt like it was on fire and her palms were buzzing like a hive of angry bees. She glanced at him and smiled briefly before collapsing onto her chair. She cradled her head in her hands and groaned. "Is it going to be like this all the time?"

"No," Charles said quickly. "This is only the first time you've ever tried doing that, and the results were spectacular. Your brain is going to have to get used to it eventually."

"I hope _eventually_ comes soon." Arya glanced at the wall clock and grimaced. Not even an hour had passed and she was already exhausted.

Nevertheless, as soon as the headache subsided, Arya insisted that they try again. Charles hadn't been very up to the idea, but he withdrew eventually. "If you say so," he had said. And for the next hour and a half, he favorably became the recipient of Arya's powers.

During the first few tries, they had the same results. Arya would close her eyes, holding her palms out, and reach into Charles' subconscious, desperately trying to latch onto his mutation. When she would succeed, she would pant for air for a few minutes before starting over again. However, after a more than a few grabs, she eventually was able to do it with her eyes open; and after a few more, she did it with ease. In the end, there were no more migraines, and the buzzing sensation in her hands felt natural. Apparently, it was Charles' turn to feel uncomfortable. "My head hurts," he said, his fingers probing the sides of his head.

Arya found that odd, because she was taking away his power and it was supposed to relieve his mind of all the voices and the noise. But she still laughed. "Should I start practicing with someone else, then?"

The professor's head snapped up, startling Arya with the suddenness of the act. He only smiled. "That's actually not a bad idea."

* * *

After dinner, as Arya was sitting in her room, someone knocked on her door. She opened it and found Erik standing in the hallway. Floating above and around him were possibly every piece of metal object he could have found that Charles allowed him to use. The sight was amusing and intimidating at the same time.

Erik raised an eyebrow. "May I come in?"

For two hours, Arya used her powers on him. When it worked, the stainless steel utensils surrounding him would drop to the matted floor, and Arya would let go. Erik would pick them up again and they'd start the process all over. During the last few hours, Arya decided to challenge herself a little. She walked to the other side of the room and used her powers from there. The room was somewhat large; bigger than the living room, that is. As expected, it was harder to latch onto Erik's mutation. But she didn't stop until she was able to do it with ease.

When she told Erik that it was okay for them to stop, he nodded his head briefly and bade her goodnight, and that was it. Arya had noticed that the metal-moving mutant looked unhappy with what she could do; grimacing every time she got a hold of him. She made it a point to ask someone about it, blushing when the first person she thought of was Charles.

_Charles._

Right before she fell asleep, Arya was wondering very deeply if he really did have a crush on her.

* * *

**[metal-rock singer's voice] REVIEWSSSSS PLEEEAAASE. [proceeds to headbang]**


	9. Chapter 9 - A Good Memory

**HOLY CRAP GUYS I AM FULLY AWARE OF HOW EPICALLY LATE THIS UPDATE IS. See, the thing is, my laptop sort of got broken for reasons unknown to me and we've yet to get it fixed. But thank the Lawd, I was able to save my files in this flashdrive, and now i'm using my brother's laptop. ****I'LL KEEP UPDATING FROM NOW ON DON'T YOU WORRY.**

**P.S. School is just a week away and I want to kill myself. ****So, you know. Peace.**

**I OWN NOTHING OF THE MARVEL (FOX) UNIVERSE, ONLY MY OC-ARYA-AND HER FICTIONAL INVOLVEMENT IN THIS STORY.**

**_UPDATE (08/01/17): So I got a shitload of reviews calling me out on the cellphone bit in this chapter. Especially when this chapter first came out! I was all for just leaving it be and apologizing to whoever noticed and minded, because God only knows how much of a lazy shit I am - but I don't know, something about today was different. I'm tired and anxious about senior high, and I was reading the comments and found another complaint._**

**_Of course, it really was my mistake. None of y'all should feel guilty for pointing it out to me._**

**_So, finally, I have decided to fix it. I've removed the cellphone line completely and specified the kind of phone that Arya uses. More explanations in the A/N after the chapter._**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

_ "Check those guys out." Chloe nodded at something behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw three guys sitting at the booth behind us. One had messy brown hair with glasses and stood out from his friends, who both had tattoos on their arms. He was staring at me. I looked away, blushing._

_ Chloe kept her eyes on him. "One of them is totally checking you out," she said, sipping on her drink._

_ "I noticed," I grumbled, picking at my food. "Hey, is this gonna be another one of your one-night-stand nights?"_

_ She stole a quick glance at me, not blinking, before going back to her stare down. "Maybe."_

_ "You're _totally_ biting your lip."_

_ "What? He's hot."_

_ "All of them kind of are." I rolled my eyes, before realizing what I just said. Shit, I thought to myself. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable tidal wave of hormones that was Chloe Singer._

_ Sure enough, it came. When I took a peek in one eye, I saw my friend grinning from ear to ear; all thoughts of the staring contest gone and her concentration on me. I inwardly groaned._

_ "Am I finally gonna get my bestie to go on a one-night stand?" she asked, practically bouncing on her seat._

_ "Neither of us are drunk enough for this conversation!"_

_ "You always say that." She sighed, craning her neck and looking over my head again. I counted the seconds in my head until she sighed again. This was, indeed, her way of getting me to do things—when she wasn't drunk and shaking my shoulders, that is._

_ By the time she sighed for the fifth time, I was already so irritated with her that I just slammed my hand on the table. "Fine!" I said through gritted teeth. Then I stood up and strut to the bar at the end of the room, snapping my fingers. The bartender walked tiredly towards me but I ignored his uninterested expression. "Two whiskeys please," I said._

_ The bartender rolled his eyes but otherwise went away to get my order. I whirled around and met Chloe's gaze. She had both eyebrows up. I pointed an accusing at her before directing it to my chest. I mouthed, "Me. Drunk. Sex." She snickered and asked for the bill when the bartender came back._

* * *

_ We were sitting cross-legged on the beach, the sand cool beneath the blanket. The guy with the brown hair and glasses—his name was Chris. It was the first thing I'd asked him, and he had smiled, answering the question anyway even though it was probably rude of me. I immediately respected the guy and told Chloe that she could have the other two. She had sent me a disgusted look, as if she wasn't actually considering the idea of sleeping with two._

_ "So you just bring a picnic blanket with you wherever you go?" I asked, looking over the dark water._

_ Chris laughed beside me. "Nah, just thought I'd need it tonight…"_

_ For a moment, I was confused. Why would he need a blanket? Tonight was a fairly average night. But then I laughed, finally catching up. "Coming-of-age night, huh?"_

_ "Yeah."_

_ "How old are you?"_

_ "Twenty." He was quiet. I looked over and found him fidgeting with the hem of his shirt._

_ I patted him on the leg. "Don't worry about it. I turned twenty just a couple of years ago, and Chloe brought me to this strip club. It was horrible." A smile inched up my face as I remembered that night, but it quickly disappeared again when I noticed the man beside me was _still_ quiet. "Hey, if you want to sleep with me, you're gonna have to do a lot better than that."_

_ Chris shook his head. "I'm sorry, it's just… you're older than me, and it's kind of a—"_

_ "Turn-off?" I finished for him. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded his head. I did the same, smiling. "Yeah, well, just between us…" I leaned in closer to him and cupped my hand at the side of my mouth, giving him the impression that someone could have been listening. His eyes flitted around us before finally settling on me. He leaned in. I winked, saying, "We don't even have to have sex." The surprised expression on his face was epic. I shrugged. "But we could make out if you want."_

_ He frowned. "Aren't our friends gonna find out that we didn't, you know… have sex?"_

_ I grinned. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve."_

_ We spent the night stargazing under a full moon. The sound of the waves crashing over the shore was all we heard, along with the distant sounds of cars driving by on the streets behind us. At some point, he finally asked why I was wearing gloves._

_ Sighing, I only said, "Long story."_

_ I was thankful that the subject changed after that. He started asking about me; among others were how old I was, where my parents were (which I didn't answer), and how I met Chloe. I laughed at the last one, and it rang out all across the beach. "She kind of found me," I had said, a bit sheepish._

_ That was when he kissed me. It wasn't my first kiss but I assumed it was his. I was just happy that it wasn't rushed, or bruising, or needy; it was just between two people, me and him, who didn't have experience with sex or anything like that._

* * *

Arya didn't wake up with a scream that night. She woke up with her hands balled into fists, her knees curled up to her chest, and her pillow wet with tears. She clung onto the dream, running it through over and over in her head because she didn't want to forget the first time she ever touched someone so intimately without hurting them. _I didn't know I still had that._

Waking up in the middle of the night crying had always been a thing for Arya. She never went to a therapist or a doctor because they wouldn't have helped. Arya wouldn't have let them help. Sometimes, she would tell herself that she was a selfish person for thinking that.

_Why don't you want to help yourself?_

_ Why stay like this?_

So much had happened to her during her childhood—the roots of her life—that she doubted any form of drugs or counselling would have mended the wounds. None of it would have taken away the curse on her palms.

But the more she thought about it, the more she thought that maybe it wasn't a curse at all. And that thought made her cry even more. Maybe she'd been given a curse, and maybe she would never be able to touch another human other than herself… but she remembered the way Charles had looked at her earlier that day. She remembered how truly amazed he was by what she could do, and how Raven had thanked her even though she hadn't really seen how beautiful she truly was.

For Raven was beautiful even in her blue form.

Arya's sobs turned into laughs, because the people in this house, people she barely knew, were the ones who helped her the most.

Before them, though… Chloe was the one who was beside Arya all the way, and now, Arya wouldn't even tell her where she'd gone. Was she looking for her? Was she worried? What kind of friend would Arya be, exactly, if she just left her alone?

What if Arya died in this war? Would Chloe know anything about what really happened? No. Would she _understand_? No. All she'd get was a letter from the coroner's office telling her that Arya was dead, and she'd get it because she was practically family.

No, she _was_ family; and what kind of sister would Arya be if she just left her alone without an explanation?

Her eyes fell on the rotary phone at the end of the room.

Without hesitation, she pulled her blankets off and stood. It wouldn't really hurt if she gave Chloe a quick call, right? It wasn't like anyone was tracking them. No one tracked soldiers in a war; they waited until the soldiers attacked. And besides, she had previously seen Moira and the others using the handsets all over the house, even Charles, without reluctance.

Arya, having memorized Chloe's home number by heart, punched it in and waited patiently. After four rings, she finally heard a voice on the other end—faint, in the beginning, with a lot of static, but the connection cleared up eventually.

_"Hello?"_

The voice was groggy, as expected. It was the middle of the night. And Arya also noticed the tone of the voice was higher than she remembered, but she was positive that it was Chloe on the other end.

There came another "hello", this time suspicious. Arya took a deep breath, working up the courage she never thought she'd need, before replying.

"Hi, Chloe," she said. Her voice broke at the last syllable but she heard a gasp at the other end of the line.

_"Arya?"_ Chloe said, her voice breathy. _"Is that really you?"_

Arya couldn't help but to laugh at the incredulity on the other end, but it quickly turned into a sob. She smiled sadly to herself. "Yeah. Yeah, it's really me."

_"Look, if this is another prank by you Brandon sons of bitches I am _seriously_ gonna—"_

"No, Chloe, hey…" Arya interrupted her before she could say anymore. Her mind drifted to the brothers she'd mentioned—the Brandons—and she scowled. Those two were bent on revenge after she and Chloe had left a surprise on their brand new car several years ago.

"It's really me. It's Arya," she continued. She was crying again, but she swallowed back the sobs. "Your best friend, remember?"

_"Yeah, I remember." _There was a laugh on the other end. _"Where have you been?"_

"I'm kind of out of town right now, probably won't be back for a few days." Arya sniffled and shut her eyes tight. _For a few days, or never?_ She had no idea why she was so scared about dying; she hadn't been when she accepted Charles' request, why was she now? "Hey," she said, frowning. "Could you remind me again how many days I've been gone?"

_"About a week_._" _A worried tone had edged into her voice. _"Are you okay? I've been looking for you. Did something come up with the cousins or…?"_

"No, no, it's nothing like that," Arya said, laughing slightly. She had forgotten that she'd lied to her about being close with her cousins. As far as she knew, she _had_ no cousins. "Just, allergies."

_"Oh… well, why are you calling this late anyway?"_

"Nothing, I…" Arya held the phone away from her mouth when a sob threatened to escape her throat. Once she was sure she had her act together, she hurriedly put it back to her ear. There was no need for her friend to worry over her. "I just miss you."

_"Aww, I miss you too! Listen, once you get back, you'll get to see the new trophy case I installed for us, yeah? We're gonna win _so_ much more competitions. Just you wait. We'll be queens of the beach!"_

Arya barely kept it together after that. She had to lean against the wall. The phone was still on her ear and Chloe seemed to hear her crying. _"Hey, what's wrong?"_ Arya didn't reply but instead let the sound of her friend's voice burn itself into her brain. _"Arya? You there?"_

"Yep," she said, wiping her nose. "Look, I, uh…" Her grip on the handset tensed. "I have to go, now."

_"Oh, of course,"_ came the hasty reply. _"Yeah, it's kind of late too. I should go back to sleep."_

"Yeah."

The other end of the line went silent before Chloe spoke again; her voice seemed to contain genuine relief. _"It's really good to hear from you again, Arya."_

Tears streamed down Arya's face. She replied, "You too, Chloe."

_"Alright, goodnight."_ Then the line went dead.

When Arya finally fell asleep again, she dreamt of floating in a sea of stars. Whenever she would touch one, she'd burn. And she passed by all of them.

Maybe it was a pleasant dream, and maybe it was a nightmare, but for the rest of the night, she was left happily sailing into her own sub-consciousness, conversations with Chloe softly playing in her ears.

* * *

**_"The first commercial installation of a telephone dial accompanied the first commercial installation of a 99-line automatic telephone exchange in La Porte, Indiana, in 1892, which was based on the 1891 Strowger designs... From the 1960s onward, the rotary dial was gradually supplanted by dual-tone multi-frequency push-button dialing, first introduced to the public at the 1962 World's Fair under the trade name "Touch-Tone". Touch-tone technology primarily used a keypad in form of a rectangular array of push-buttons for dialing." (Source: Wikipedia)_**

**_The 1962 World Fair was held in April. The Cuban Missile Crisis happened in October. Seeing as Charles had a wealthy family, I don't doubt that they were one of the very first ones to purchase a gadget which was, back then, the first of its kind._**

**_Please stop pestering me about that cellphone mistake now huhuhu I'm tired._**

**_P.S. I took it upon myself to edit this chapter in general. I'm not sure if you'd notice, but I'm just putting it out there._**


	10. Chapter 10 - Banshee

**I OWN NOTHING FROM X-MEN, ONLY MY OC-ARYA-AND HER FICTIONAL INVOLVEMENT IN THIS STORY.**

**(okay so i just remembered this now-how stupid of me-that the X-Men movie franchise is not owned by Marvel. therefore, my disclaimers at the beginning of the past nine chapters have been shitty, to say the least. but i'm correcting them now, so. x'D )**

**yadda yadda yadda-enjoy the story, love! ^^**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

**DAY 3**

Arya watched from a window as Erik lifted several metal objects into the air with his mind, with Charles instructing (or distracting) him in the background. They hadn't done much other than that, and most of the time it wasn't very interesting; but now, Erik was working with several tons of iron.

They floated around his head, and then dropped, and then spread into a wide arc before closing in around the mutant once more. The cycle would repeat and Arya would feel like she was watching a circus started by mutants.

In a sense, they _could_ actually start one after the war. Arya didn't know what they all did for a living, but Arya didn't have a job. It was actually a miracle her family fund had been loaned to her, but after that… what was she going to do? She couldn't actually rely on Chloe for the money. Her friend barely got by. Maybe she could get a job as a volleyball trainer.

Thoughts such as these flew by as Arya stared on. Each time feelings about the previous night edged into her mind, she would push them away. She'd let herself drown in her distractions already; she didn't need to anymore. She had to focus on her training and on the war.

When she was feeling in the mood for it, and if the mutants outside didn't seem to be doing anything important, she'd try using her powers. Of course, they worked. She'd been practicing all night.

The weights floating around Erik would lose altitude for only a second before Arya let go and they'd come right back up again. The metal-mover didn't seem to mind, but occasionally he would send her a look that basically meant his head was starting to hurt. The same had happened with Charles. Arya had no idea why her powers could do that. Maybe she was gripping them too tightly?

She experimented for a while and found that it was normal, considering both Charles' and Erik's powers manifested in their minds. Earlier that day, she'd used her powers several times with Sean, but his throat didn't hurt afterwards. Perhaps the brain was both the strongest and the most sensitive part of the human body after all.

When Charles finally excused Erik—or, more likely, Erik told Charles that he was finished—Arya watched on in curiosity as both mutants walked towards the house. She could see their mouths moving as they talked in hushed tones, and as they reached the door, Charles frowned.

Arya's interest was piqued.

She pushed herself off the sofa she had been sitting on and made her way out into the hall. Once she walked out of the living room, she found Charles, Hank, and Erik. They went out the door, and a smirk crept up her lips when she saw Sean trailing behind them, wearing his makeshift wings. Arya rushed up to meet him before flicking his ear.

"Ow," he complained, though Arya noticed the half-heartedness in his voice.

Her playfulness died down, replaced by concern. "What's up?"

"Well, I'm gonna fly again," he grumbled, scratching at the spot on his ear where she had flicked him.

Arya couldn't help but to smile as she remembered the last time he tried. Biting her cheek, she asked, "And you're worried? You've been practicing 24/7 with your powers. I'm sure you'll get it this time."

He shrugged but didn't answer, and that was when she realized that he wasn't going to jump out from just a window. They were way past the backdoor to the mansion already. She frowned. "Where exactly are you jumping from this time?"

Again, he didn't answer. Instead, he rubbed his neck with his hand and raised his head, staring at something in the distance. Arya turned her gaze to where he was looking and her stomach dropped.

"Well, shit."

* * *

Sean uneasily rocked from foot to foot beside Charles. "And you truly believe I'll fly this time?"

"Unreservedly," the telepath replied.

They all looked down from the extreme height they were in, including Arya, who wasn't very fond of heights. But she was determined to keep her stomach in so she could be there for her friend. They stood at the top of the satellite dish (Arya was curious as to why Charles had one just a few hundred miles from his family mansion), and Sean kept his gaze on the ground.

"I trust you," he said, motioning to Charles.

"I'm touched."

"I don't trust him," Sean added as he motioned to Hank. Arya smirked slightly when the prodigy looked taken aback.

"Say nothing," Charles said, holding a silencing hand out to Hank but not taking his eyes off Sean.

Arya gripped the railings tight, completely aware of the long fall that loomed in front of her, but she kept her eyes on Banshee. "You'll do fine," she said, though even her voice was shaking.

"I'm gonne die!"

Her input hadn't really helped much.

Charles put his hand on Sean's shoulder in a gesture of placidity. But behind him, Arya could see the glint in Erik's eye. She took a step forward. "Alright, look, we're not gonna make you do anything you don't want to—"

"Here, let me help." Before Arya—or _any_ of them, really—could do anything else, Erik had already pushed Sean over the edge and the wailing mutant was flying through the air below them.

Charles started. "Erik!" Arya wasn't looking at him, though.

She stared over the railing while Sean screamed, but it wasn't the supersonic kind. "SCREAM, BANSHEE! SCREAM!" she catcalled, cupping her mouth so her yell could reach him. She watched as the teenager seemed to compose himself. He balanced his body against the raging winds below him and spread his arms.

Arya, still worried but considerably excited, held her hand out and used her Third Eye—that was what she called the symbols on her palm now.

As usual, her vision turned into a slight grey hue. She didn't use her mutation but instead stared at Sean's. She watched as the pulsing orb in his throat ebbed once, then twice, before she finally heard him scream.

She grinned when the sound waves touched the ground. Sean's descent stopped, and soon enough he was soaring high above them. Arya dropped her hand and started laughing as the flying mutant whizzed past them, falling downwards before he wailed again. This time, the sound waves caught on the curve of the satellite dish and carried him in a circular flight.

Arya cheered from where she stood, and turned her head just in time to catch Charles glaring at Erik, but even she could see the slight smile on his face.

And she, being too gleeful to contain herself, slipped off her beanie and tangled it into a ball, sealing it with her bracelet. "Hey, Banshee!" she yelled at the top of her lungs. The wailing mutant turned his head just enough to look at her. He was considerably far, but the call echoed across the clearing. "Catch!" She threw the beanie as high as she could.

Almost immediately, Sean adjusted so that he flew in a 180 degree angle. Soon enough he was high in the sky and plummeting downwards. His eyes were set on the rolled-up beanie that was quickly being pulled down. Arya cheered when he caught it, but her stomach dropped when she noticed a small figure running out of a silver car that hadn't been there when they parked.

"Hey!" she heard Raven yell. "Is that Sean?!"

Sean replied by raising his fist in triumph, the beanie still in it. Then his form wavered and he had to spread his arm again in order to balance himself. He dropped the beanie and it landed right in front of Raven. When she let out a girly shriek, Arya had to steady herself on the railing to keep from doubling over and falling over the edge in laughter. Vaguely, she noticed the others laughing as well.

* * *

"Well, what did you think it was?"

"I thought it was a rock or something!"

Arya sniggered. "It must have been a very stylish rock." Beside her, she heard Raven scoff. But then she cleared her throat and pointed her Third Eye on that one spot on her friend's arm, frowning in concentration.

She held her hand out and smiled when she finally got a grip. Instantly, the blue color on Raven's forearm turned into a pale flesh tone. From there on, Arya's mutation branched outwards, like a drop of blood into water.

When it reached her friend's shoulder, she let go. The blue tinge returned; Arya noted the crease in Raven's forehead when this happened but otherwise turned to Charles, who was casually sitting on a chair beside her. "I'm done with Raven," she said in a bored tone. "Now can I _please_ work with Alex?"

"No," the professor's stern reply came. His head was still bowed as he read a book by Charles Darwin (Arya was starting to think that every book in the house was by the old bloke). "You know how unstable his mutation is—"

"And mine isn't?"

"No, it isn't—and Hank's almost finished with the prototype he's been working on. It might help steady Alex's energy beams, and when it does I'll make sure that you'll be the first to know, yes?"

Arya glared at him, but she was the first to back down. She could never stay angry with him. Part of her was scared with that fact, and yet part of her was excited.

Raven got off of her chair beside her. "Well," she said, sighing. "I'm gonna go get a drink. Arya, you wanna come?"

"No, thank you," she replied, throwing a smile over her shoulder. "I'm just gonna sit here for a while." From the corner of her eye, she saw Raven smirk. It was all she could do not to throw her the finger.

Once Raven was out the door, Charles flipped his book shut with a dull thud before looking up to meet Arya's eyes.

"You're getting better," he said, regarding her. She still couldn't get over how blue his eyes were.

"I really would like to see how I'd handle Alex's mutation," she said, frowning in genuine inquisitiveness. "I've never dealt with something so _corporeal_, you know?"

Charles chuckled. "I did mean what I said, Arya," he said, leaning closer to her. "Hank should be done with the prototype by tomorrow, and I plan on letting you know what happens before anyone else." Arya couldn't help the smile that crept up her lips at his propriety. When their moment was over, he leaned back on his seat once more and put his legs up, adding, "Once Alex learns how to aim, that is."

Arya laughed, before raising her hand up slightly. "Do you mind if I…?"

The telepath shook his head. "Not at all."

For the next few minutes, she made Charles' power turn on and off. The pulsing light in his brain kept flickering as Arya forced herself to get used to the tugging at the back of her head. The professor didn't seem at all fazed, not like he'd been the previous day. He didn't have to tell her to stop because of the headaches, either. Arya took that as a good sign.

Practicing with Charles was always very enjoyable, as he did all he could to make conversation. He asked her about her life in Carlsbad, her friends, her hobbies, playing volleyball…

… But every time he asked about her family, she would keep her mouth shut and concentrate harder than she needed to.

Charles would never push her into telling him, too. And they never lingered on the subject for too long.

An hour passed, and that was when she started hearing voices.

Arya let her hand fall to her lap. "Charles?" He looked up from the book he'd only recently pulled out of the bookshelf. "Did you say something?"

The professor shook his head slowly. "No…?" Arya frowned and rubbed her temples, trying to make the migraine go away. She hadn't had one since the first times she'd used her powers, and she soon grew worried that maybe she'd been overusing them.

"Arya?" Charles pushed himself off his seat, the book long forgotten, and squatted so he was eye-to-eye with her.

"I could have sworn that I… I was hearing voices, and…" She looked into his searching eyes. "Whispers."

"Whispers?"

"Yeah…" She frowned. "Whispers, like…" Suddenly, a crazy thought occurred to her; crazy and farfetched, mostly. Her hand shot up and she immediately cupped Charles' cheek. He looked surprised by the gesture, but Arya was thankful that he didn't move away.

She closed her eyes and found the light in his mind dying down, but the voices were there again.

There were several, maybe four or five. Mostly they were just whispers, but when Arya tried listening in, one would get particularly louder until she could hear exactly what they were saying.

_"Damn, flying felt good."_

_ "I wonder what Charles and Arya are doing in there right now…"_

_ "Raven needs to know how beautiful she is, even in her blue form. I plan on telling her myself."_

_ "We seriously shouldn't have tried to play football in here. That hole in the window is _huge_."_

_ "Shaw's planning something big. I just know it."_

Arya recognized the voices. They were her _friends'_ voices. How was she hearing them? Her eyes snapped open and she was immediately met with Charles' wide eyes. "Arya, what's wrong?" Her heart fluttered when she realized that he was more worried about what was happening with her rather than unhappy that she just took away his mutation without his permission.

She blinked as the voices went away the same time she let go of his cheek. "Could you tell me again how your power works when you're not concentrating, please?" She watched as Charles blinked in confusion as well, but otherwise answered her question.

"There are voices in my head, and only when I concentrate on one of them can I really understand what I'm hearing. Arya, what's going on? Did your power act out or something? Is it because I've been pushing you too much? Because if it is, I'd be more tha—"

"I heard them, Charles," Arya interrupted him, a slight laugh in her voice. She watched as an even more confused look make its way onto his face, and then she cupped his cheek once more. Again came the whispers but Arya paid them no heed, instead smiling from cheek to cheek. "Charles, I can _hear_ them! The same way you can! God…"

As she closed her eyes, listening to all of them at once because concentrating on one was relatively harder, she heard Charles mutter something under his breath about newly generated cells and improved mutations. When she opened her eyes again, Charles was beaming at her, laughing.

Once they'd both gotten sober enough to start breathing correctly again, he was the first to speak. His eyes sparkled. "It looks like we've got something new to work with!"

* * *

During the hours leading up to dinner time, everyone had gathered in the living room and Arya had tried her newly found powers on each of them—except Alex—and they worked.

Borrowing their mutations wasn't very much different with cancelling them. Arya would have to reach into where they harnessed their powers, but instead of holding them in a tight grip, she would just have to keep contact with the lights. That was when she would feel new energy surge through her.

She tried it with Erik and was able to lift a stapler off the table, but with much trouble. She tried it with Charles and was able to send them all otherwise discrete thoughts, such as _"hi" _or _"how are you today"_. She tried it with Sean and broke the glass window across from her. Charles only laughed in obvious delight. It was very tricky when she tried it with Raven, however. So Arya only reached out for one of her eyes; soon enough, one eye was hazel—_her_ eye—and one eye was yellow—Raven's.

Of course, she did all these with much distress, and in the end she had a very severe headache.

Arya also found out that when she borrowed their mutations, what she did didn't seem to affect them in any way; not like when she'd cancelled Erik's powers and he would have a migraine. Apart from a slight itchy feeling on her palms, there was nothing.

When they all sat around the dining table, eating, Arya couldn't help but find it funny that her mutation was cancelling and borrowing another person's powers. So, in a way, she really had _no_ powers at all. But then, she would touch a person—a human—and they'd immediately start convulsing on the ground in pain.

It was all quite confusing for her, but not in the disheartening sort of way; like when a child would curl his hand over a cube of ice and it would melt, even though he were in a very, very cold room. She would think back and remember that she'd only been spending three days in the mansion, yet she'd learned more about herself and her mutation than she had in the past seventeen years.

Throughout the dinner, Arya would reach into her fellow mutants' and practice furling and unfurling the imaginary tendrils around different parts of their bodies. One time, she tried it with Alex, but then thought better of it; if he was still yet to control his own powers, how would Arya fare?

To her surprise, that night, no nightmares came. No tears.

* * *

**don't forget to review!;) I'M WATCHING YOU**


	11. Chapter 11 - Havok

**you guys, i broke my promise. this is SO goddamn late. but, as payment for your patience, i'll give you two chapters straight up. ;)**

**i love you guys!**

**ALL RIGHTS GO TO FOX - EXCEPT FOR ARYA'S RIGHTS. SHE'S MINE.**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

**DAY 4**

"Have I told you I haven't been following that diet you told me to be following?"

"No." Raven frowned and looked at Arya from where she was sitting, curling her arm up and down with a dumbbell in her hand.

Arya bit back her smile. "Well, I haven't."

"_Arya_," her friend groaned, but she could see that she wasn't serious about being pissed.

"Which means that our workouts probably will be for nothing."

"_Dammit,_ Arya!"

She laughed once, before having to scrunch up her face in concentration again. Raven had thrown her 60 lb. that day. Arya complained, but did what she said anyway. She actually wanted to get some muscles in her arms, not just in her legs anymore. As they'd mentioned before, it helped with volleyball.

Her joints were still sore from their training session the other day. She was only thankful that her personal trainer had seen it fit that they only _normally_ lift dumbbells today.

"So what's with the tension between you and Erik?" she suddenly blurted out. She was just about to say sorry before biting her tongue at the last second; if Raven would bug her about her current personal life, why couldn't she do the same to her? Arya raised her eyebrows slightly in a teasing gesture and smirked when her friend glared back.

Raven scoffed. "What tension?"

"You know, when he just happened to walk into one of our gym sessions the other day and ranted about how your mutation demanded most of your attention?" _Wow; that last part actually rhymed._

Again, Raven scoffed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

For a minute, Arya was quiet, giving Raven the impression that she was probably going to shut up about it. But she really wasn't planning on it. "So is it _sexual_ or…?"

Raven's reaction was _priceless._ It took a while for Arya to stop laughing, and even when she did, her shoulders still shook with laugher every time her friend made a remark such as "Gross!" or "Arya, you perv!"

"Hey! I am _not_ a perv." She winked and smiled evilly. "I'm just a very good friend."

"Yeah, right."

Then she put down her dumbbells and looked at her, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Seriously though," Arya started, waiting for her friend to turn and look at her before continuing. "He had a point."

Raven put her dumbbells down beside Arya's and stared at them. "What do you mean?"

"It's just something I noticed." Arya shrugged. "When you were in your blue form, you were a lot stronger than you made yourself out to be while you were disguised as Ra—" She stopped, flinching. "… as someone else."

From the corner of her eye, she could see Raven shift uncomfortably on the bench. She didn't say anything after that, too, letting the thought sink in. Her friend broke the silence. She said, "That's because I have to get used to multitasking." Arya looked at her friend as she threw her a smile, one she assumed to be plastic, before picking up her dumbbells again. Raven started counting out loud even though she hadn't been before.

Arya sighed before following suit. She'd voiced out what she wanted to say; now she had to wait for results.

Just then, something flitted into view from the corner of her eye. She turned and found Hank walking down the hallway, holding a very interesting-piece of invention in his arms. Arya jumped up, immediately dropping her dumbbells and rushing out the door. She heard Raven calling her name behind her but she didn't turn around. She was too giddy with excitement.

"Hank!" she yelled maybe a little too loudly.

The researcher flinched, stopped for a moment, and then kept walking. "Sorry, not right now, Arya. I have to get this to the professor as soon as possible."

Arya wasn't discouraged by this. She surged forward and matched Hank's stride easily, before turning around and backpedalling instead so she could see his face. Her face was lit up like a light bulb. "Is that the prototype for Alex?"

"Yes."

"Are they in the bunker right now?"

"Yes."

"Can I come with you?"

Hank shook his head. "I don't think the professor would want you there. It'd be unwise to—" Arya raised an eyebrow, and he sighed. "Fine."

* * *

Arya eyed the contraption currently strapped onto Alex's torso, mostly keeping her eyes on the intricate circuits that could be seen through the surface. The device looked like a sun with a smaller sun inside, with a smaller sun inside _that_, with a smaller sun inside that. There were seven barbs jutting out from the very outer sun, and another that stretched all the way to Alex's back. On his back was what looked to be a yellow box practically taped onto his hoodie. There were several wires and cords that could be seen protruding from it.

Alex exhaled. "Sexy, right?"

"How does it work?" Arya asked, poking at one of the miniature suns. She actually found it quite fascinating, which was a clear sign that she'd been spending too much time with Charles.

Behind her, it sounded as if Hank was about to answer her question. But through her eyelashes, Arya watched as Alex threw the scientist a look, effectively cutting him off. She suspected that the teen was saving her from yet another one of the young researcher's scientific rants.

"Basically," Alex drawled, taking another moment to keep his glare locked on Hank before looking down to meet her gaze. "It'll let me use my power without me completely burning the bunker down."

Arya's eyes flicked to the side, where she just noticed several scorch marks on the interior of the bunker.

She grinned. "Better aim right then, yeah?" She patted him on the shoulder before walking to the one end of the room behind him. She leaned on the wall and crossed her arms just as Hank and Charles finished up with the mannequins.

"Alright," Charles said, moving away from the mannequins and making his way to Alex. "Try hitting the one in the middle. _Just_ the one in the middle, mate. Good luck." Then he walked out of the room, Hank trailing behind him. They didn't even notice that Arya hadn't been following them when they shut the door.

She smirked when they opened it again, only Charles' head poking in. "Arya, come on," he said.

She pretended to think for a moment before shaking her head. "Nah, I think I'll stay here. It's kind of cold outside."

Charles was unamused. "Alex doesn't feel comfortable with other people in the room. Right, Alex?" He turned his head to look at the young man standing in the middle of the room. Arya met his gaze too, and something in her look must have convinced him more than Charles'.

He shrugged. "She could be my failsafe."

Arya beamed at the boys by the door. "I could be his failsafe."

The professor opened the door to its full extent and walked in, giving Arya a stern look. "There's no need for a failsafe. Hank's device will work perfectly, won't it, Hank?" Hank nodded his head vigorously at the door as if it would prove a point. Charles regarded him before looking down at Arya again. "See? Now, let's get out of here so Alex can try it out."

"Wait a second." Arya pulled out of his grip as gently as she could. "If Hank's contraption is guaranteed to work, then I'll be completely safe here!" She rushed to the wall where she'd previously been leaning on and pushed herself up against it, smirking when she realized she had a point. "Right, Alex?"

It was her turn to look for back-up, and it came at just the perfect moment.

Alex, however, didn't act as unsure as Hank. He shrugged nonchalantly and met Charles' gaze with a cool look. "She'll be fine there."

Charles seemed to hesitate, but when Arya sent him a reassuring (and slightly secretive) smile, he stepped down. He walked out the door, and Hank shut it, and then it was just her and Alex in the room.

And to think that she'd only done all of that to see what it'd be like to try out his powers for her own.

She cleared her throat and pushed herself off the wall. "Alright, Alex," she said. "Before you shoot down _those _things,"—she nodded to the mannequins—"Would you mind if I try cancelling your powers first? Just to try it out."

Arya was surprised that she didn't need to coax him into it. He just nodded his head, albeit reluctantly, and turned away from her. Arya raised both hands—as she had never worked with Alex's mutation before and was unsure—and gave him the go signal, the pulsing light in the middle of his chest already in her sights and her imaginary fingers already hovering around it.

She immediately gripped it tight as soon as she saw Alex's shoulder tense. He thrust his torso forward, and Arya almost expected a bright beam of red light to erupt from Hank's device, but nothing came.

After he tried again with the same results, Arya grinned in triumph before dropping her hands, satisfied. "Okay, _now_ you can shoot 'em down. But just the one in the middle, yeah?" He grunted in response and she rushed back to her wall, pressing herself up against it.

She watched him repeat his actions; he took a deep breath, tensed his shoulders, and thrust forward. This time, the panel on his chest made a loud screeching sound, like nails on a chalkboard, before a beam of red energy shot out from it. Arya yelped in surprise when the mannequin on the left burst in flames; in front of it was a trail of fire.

"Keep your chest steady!" she was barely able to yell before Alex shot out another beam of energy. When Arya dropped her arms from her eyes, she could see that he hadn't been able to follow her instructions.

The mannequin on the right was on fire as well, with a blazing trail in front of it, and Alex was sprawled on the floor. The force of the blast from his chest had probably gotten him off balance.

Arya rushed forward and knelt to help him up, but not before she placed three solid knocks on the door to signal to the two men waiting outside. Once Alex was on his feet again, she allowed herself to laugh. He pried his eyes away from the burning mannequins and looked at her.

"You're gonna need some practice," she said, patting him on the back.

Hank and Charles put out the flaming mannequins and moved them out of the bunker before they let Alex keep trying. But this time, they stayed inside the bunker with Arya. Charles didn't look happy with her, as he barely looked at her. However, once she told him that he was acting childish, he took another moment to himself before finally looking at her, a smile already inching up his face. She smiled back.

For the next few hours, they watched as Alex shot blazing red beams at the far wall over and over again. Arya stood beside Charles, watching with him, and listening when he would take notes of what Alex was doing wrong.

"Level your shoulders."

"Spread your legs a little bit more." Arya snickered a little at this.

"Don't aim your chest too low."

"Try using your arms to keep yourself balanced."

Each time the professor would say things like these, Alex seemed to get better. When he levelled his shoulders, the beam shot where he was facing. When he spread his legs and arms the slightest bit, he didn't stumble back as he usually did after the blast. But when he stood straight and kept his chest tensed, he was able to shoot the perfect beam; no stumbling, and no sputters.

That was when Charles walked up to him and put his hand on his shoulder. "We'll be back," the professor said. And Arya stayed on her spot by the wall, keeping watch over Alex in case something happened, until the two young geniuses came strutting back in again, with a new mannequin in their arms.

Only one.

Arya watched as they placed it in the middle of the room, taping an X on its pale abdomen before they finally stepped away. They then stood on either side of the mannequin, both their hands in their pockets.

"Wonderful work, Hank, thank you very much," Charles said, his shoulders sagging. "Alright, Alex, I want you to hit the X, and try not to hit _me_. There's a good chap."

It took a moment for Alex to respond. "You're serious?" he said, skepticism in his voice.

Arya stared at the telepath. "Charles," she said sternly, taking a step forward; only stopping when he held a hand out towards her.

"I am _very_ serious," he said, and she watched as a small smile made its way up his lips before it disappeared and he turned his gaze to Alex. She realized she had done the same thing to him, only hours before.

"I have complete and utter faith in you," Charles continued, and though Arya was afraid for him, not yet completely trusting Alex to be able to aim _that_ straight, she nodded once and stepped back.

Hank shifted on his feet, apparently uncomfortable with what was happening as well, but he stood his ground. Arya tensed the same time Alex did, and she watched as he levelled his shoulders, set his feet apart, and aimed.

The beam he shot that time hit the mannequin square on the stomach. It blazed before her very eyes as Arya clapped slowly. Alex laughed, not yet moving from where he stood but sending a dazed Xavier his thanks by nodding his head. Charles nodded back.

Hank raised an eyebrow. "Am I still a bozo?" he asked.

"Yes, Hank, you're still a bozo," Alex replied, much to the young scientist's distaste. "But nice job," Alex added quickly, and that was that.

After a few more rounds of energy beam-shooting and perfect hits, Alex was free to retire for the day.

As they made their way out of the bunker, Arya could hear Sean—or, rather, _Banshee's_ wails in the distance. She assumed he decided to go flying again, and she found herself looking forward to her one-on-one session with Charles. She was next, after all.

* * *

**reviewwww review review reviewwww~~**


	12. Chapter 12 - Step Up

**Chapter 12**

As it turned out, Charles had never been planning on having a _one-on-one_ session with Arya. In fact, he had been planning something much more challenging.

He told her to put on some training clothes and to meet him at the backyard. Arya, confused as she was, did as he said, giddy from the excitement that was clear on his face. Some part of her was worried that he was planning on pushing her off a satellite as well like Sean, but some part of her also hoped that he wouldn't disappoint. She was getting excited as well.

Once she was done changing into a pair of sweatpants and training top, she made her way to meet the professor at the back.

Suffice it to say, what she found waiting for her couldn't quite compare to a metal-controlling mutant wanting to push her off the top of a satellite.

Her friends stood in a single line; Charles, Erik, Hank, Raven, Sean, and Alex. Even Moira was there, though she looked fairly less intimidating than the rest of them. There was a gun holster strapped to her side, and Arya stopped at the sight of it.

She raised an eyebrow at the smirks on their faces. "Charles?" Arya turned to look at the professor and found him beaming. His hands were behind his back; Arya took a moment to peek over his shoulder and found Raven, Moira, Hank, and Alex doing the same. It only unnerved her more.

She frowned, backing up in suspicion. "Is this a prank or something?" The long row of mutants in front of her snickered, and she joined along, laughing nervously. "Seriously though, what's…?"

As she trailed off, Charles and Erik stepped up, the latter looking more entertained than she'd ever seen him. He had his arms crossed and this evil smile on his face that made Arya quake.

She took another step back closer to the door when Charles broke away from Erik. He flashed that charming smile of his, and immediately she was entranced enough to let down her guard. Barely. The telepath walked until he was only a few feet away from her before stopping, planting his feet on the ground.

"Your training session will be a little different today, Arya," he said.

Behind him, she saw Erik's shoulders shaking as he chuckled. "More than a _little_, don't you think, Charles?"

"Indeed." The professor turned his head—and _only_ his head—to glance at the mutant behind him before looking at Arya again. "As I was saying, today, your job isn't just going to be to _use_ our powers." Suddenly, a buzzing sound echoed all around the field, and Arya peeked around Charles's shoulder to see the others completely unaffected; as if they were expecting it.

"You're supposed to beat us with them."

She froze and looked back to Charles. His taut shoulders relaxed and he brought his hands out from behind his back.

In his hands was something that looked too similar to an assault rifle. At first Arya panicked, thinking, _This is how they're going to train me? By riddling me with bullets?_ But then she noticed the little differences in the gun; like how it was black and green rather than fully grey; and how it looked to be made of plastic; and how there weren't any rail covers; or how the barrel was thicker than it was supposed to be.

She didn't need to read his mind to find out what it was. She could see the hopper topping the gun off.

"Is that what I think it is?" she said, already grinning. Over Charles' shoulder, she saw the four other mutants bring out the same type of gun from behind their backs; each was differently colored but it didn't really matter.

Charles hefted his paintball gun onto his arm and pointed the barrel to the ground. He pressed the trigger and, with a sharp _fwip_, a paintball launched itself out of the gun and onto the grass in front of Arya.

She laughed loudly, staring at the red splatter mark. "I always wanted to have a paintball war! Never done it before but let's give it a go!" Erik chuckled behind Charles, and her laugh dissipated as quickly as it'd come.

Behind them, the line of mutants (and one human) advanced. Arya watched with wary eyes as they formed a large circle around her. She, Charles, and Erik were in the middle. Each of them stood a few meters away from the other as Charles had backed up to stand next to his comrade.

"Wait…" she trailed off. "_Is_ this a paintball war?" She remembered what Charles had said, that she had to not only use their powers, but she had to beat them with it as well.

Who was going to be on her team, then?

"Not exactly," Erik answered. He bent his head to the side and rubbed his jaw.

Arya laughed uncertainly. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Charles walked up to her and put his hands on her shoulders. He was then behind her, and she could feel his warm breath on the nape of her neck as he nodded at something in the distance in front of them. Arya quickly thought back as to exactly why she had tied her hair back in a ponytail.

"You see that?" he said. A few miles away, all the way to the other side of the field—just where the forest line started—and behind the border of mutants, was a flag. A lone black flag standing in a very unremarkable place was hard for Arya to understand, but she was guessing by the evil smirks on all of their faces that it was, in fact, very extraordinary.

She had a small idea why.

With furrowed eyebrows, she guessed. "So… Capture The Flag?" Charles nodded his head behind her, and her stomach dropped. "But who's on my team?"

"No one."

"Do I get a gun of my own?"

"No." His replies were quick and blunt and Arya was getting irritated.

"Is there any place I can take cover?" she asked, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

"Yes, actually."

Arya had previously disregarded the heavy buzzing sound, but then it gradually grew louder after Charles answered her most recent question. It stopped abruptly and Arya planted her feet on the ground, expecting some kind of trap to spring underneath her or a pie flinging to her face.

But there weren't any traps or pranks, or anything of the sort.

Squares of grass suddenly shot up, flinging small packs of dirt towards the group. Arya jumped back in alarm. She watched as target stands rose out from each of the square-shaped holes on the ground. They twisted over the squares of grass and slanted, and soon enough the grass was back in place, with target stands standing on top of them. There were about two dozen placed all across the field, and one had sprung up behind the black flag. Arya eyed it warily as the buzzing sound continued and more squares of grass shot up, this time revealing towers of tires and glistening metal walls, among other things that seemed of no importance.

But those were her cover. The piles of rusted junk and newly bought feet of metal were her _cover_.

"You've got to be joking," Arya muttered under her breath before turning around to face Charles. "Why are we playing Capture The Flag? And why don't _I_ have a team?"

He smiled, answering, "You're our most powerful weapon against Shaw right now, Arya. We need you to be ready."

"You mean _Erik_ wants me to be ready."

"No, _I_ need you to be ready." He put her hands on her shoulders once more and seemed to stroke the skin beneath it. "And besides, when you put one of us down, we _stay_ down." His fingers were soft and warm against her cold skin and she was barely listening. He was looking down at her with his blue eyes and Arya couldn't help but to stare.

Her eyes searched his, and she found the familiar twinkle in his gaze; but the intimacy of the moment went away as soon as it had come.

Behind her, Arya heard Hank say something like "I didn't expect that to work" before there came a loud noise. It was similar to a high school bell tolling, but very much louder, ringing straight across the clearing.

She craned her neck to look behind her just as the wide circle of mutants broke off, each of them with pairs of two. Raven ran with Moira, and Alex with Sean. Charles gave her another gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "Good luck," he said, before running off and joining Hank behind a particularly tall, and wide, stack of tires.

Arya noticed that Erik had run off alone, but he had already disappeared, just like every one of them.

She carefully surveyed the field, already slipping off her gloves. Holding both hands out, she exhaled deeply. _God help me._

The first thing she ran for was the wooden barricade. It was the closest spot of cover she could find.

Shots were fired as soon as she broke into a run. Arya didn't bother to look where it was coming from; she needed to get to cover first. Once she was a meter away from the barricade, she tucked her legs in and slid. The grass was dewy and wet with God-knows-what, but it helped.

Arya peeked over the slightly corroded piece of cover she'd found, and spotted the dark shape of a body hiding behind a pillar just a few feet from where she was hiding. She recalled Charles' words to her. _"And besides, when you put one of us down, we _stay_ down."_ That's what he had said.

She held her hand out towards the pillar; using her Third Eye, she found the familiar pulsing light of Alex's chest. She might as well put him down first anyway, considering he was using a paintball gun. It would do her good to lessen her shooters.

She rolled from cover to cover, hiding herself from the guns that were surely aimed at her. Alex poked his head out from the side of his pillar and saw her; he instantly brought his gun out and started firing.

His reflexes were fast, but she had already come too close. She sprinted from her spot behind a tire and collided with the pillar; she then shot an arm out and grabbed Alex's gun from his hands. His body followed and she immediately pushed a hand against his chest, forcing him down.

He flailed against her, and he was _strong_. Before he could get out of her grasp, she shot him on the shoulder. As she'd thought, he stopped flailing.

_Guess I have to shoot 'em down._ Then she remembered something. _Where the hell is Sean?_

Her question was answered when Banshee shot out from behind a bush. He started firing at her; Arya would have done the same, except he was screeching at her. It wasn't exactly loud enough to make her deaf, but she was forced to drop her own gun and put her hands to her ears.

"Son of a…" she trailed off, her ears ringing. Sean stopped for a second to laugh.

His mistake.

Arya's hand immediately shot up and she made quick work with his mutation. He was still firing at her, and vaguely she noticed him coming closer. So with her other hand, she shot him right at the chest.

As far as she knew, paintball guns weren't strong enough to push people and make them fall on their backs; but that was what Sean did and Arya just went with _he's just pretending._ She braced herself up against a brick barricade that was facing the woods.

_Two down, five to go._

She used her Third Eye again and found Moira a few blocks away, leaning against a haystack cover, her finger on the trigger and her gun aimed at Arya's initial position. Raven sat on the ground next to her, her gun cradled in her arms but Arya assumed she was only waiting for her ally's signal.

Arya crouched and tip-toed her way to them, making sure to keep behind rows of cover to keep herself from being seen. She smiled to herself when she saw Moira still hadn't taken her aim off of Arya's previous location.

A twig snapped under her foot and she tensed, waiting for the downfall of paint pellets. When there was none, she continued, more cautious of the ground beneath her. She'd only just reached the twosome's position when she heard the familiar accented voice in her head.

_Hello,_ Charles said. A paintball hit her back, followed by several dozen more. She whirled around and found not the telepath standing behind her, but Hank. He had a smirk on his face and his gun shooting non-stop.

The smirk was immediately wiped off his face when Arya surged forward. She was aware of the shots being fired behind them, presumably by Moira and Raven, but she paid them no heed considering she was still in a crouched position and there was a metal wall standing between them.

She knocked the gun out of Hank's hands and kicked his feet out from underneath him. He fell, and she shot him on the chest.

"Still friends, yeah?" the scientist said, clearly out of breath but smiling nonetheless.

Arya grinned back. "Yeah," she replied.

_"A little melodramatic, don't you think?"_

She braced herself against the metal wall. Moira and Raven had stopped firing, but there was still a certain telepath she was worried about. She looked to Hank, who still hadn't moved from his spot on the ground. "Where's Charles?"

_"I'm right here,"_ came the reply. Arya had brought a hand up and she finally saw where he really was. "Right here" was about as close as he could get, since he was literally in front of her; behind a pillar of tires, to be exact, but it was in front of her nonetheless.

He had no paintball gun pointed at her. He had no paintball gun _at all_. He just had his index finger and middle finger held against his temples, and Arya could feel his consciousness digging into her mind. She immediately threw her mental defenses up, but he was already in too deep.

_"Drop your gun,"_ he ordered, and she did so. _"Apologize to Hank,"_ he said next. Arya did so, much to her embarrassment, and Hank sniggered from where he lay on the grass.

Then the next order came, so much louder than its predecessors.

_"Give up," _Charles told her. _"Surrender."_

For a moment, she was tempted to do so. His mind was stronger than hers, and far more practiced, but she fought against it with every fiber of her being. She slowly brought her hand up, feeling as though she was fighting against her own veins.

But as soon as she found _his_ light, she gripped it tight. Her body loosened up and she wasted no time to borrow his powers. "Lie down," she told him. Once he did, she fired below his stomach. It was lower than she'd meant to, but she laughed anyway at the expression on his face. "Sorry!" she said, still giggling when she turned around and continued on her way towards Moira and Raven.

She made quick work with Moira, catching her off-guard; but not the same went for Raven.

They had quite a catfight. It was the first time Arya had seen Raven in combat, and she had _moves_. She was quick, too. She already had her pinned to the ground when Arya was forced to borrow Charles' ability again. "Stop fighting," she ordered her. Raven took her foot off Arya's neck. "Lie down." Raven did so, and Arya shot her on the shoulder. Twice, just to be sure.

In fact, she had already stood up to announce her victory when something whizzed past her ear. She whirled around and caught another just before it connected with her head. She rolled it in her fingertips and found that it was aluminum foil crumpled into a ball the same size as the paintballs.

Arya grinned. "Erik?" she called out, sure that no one else was left standing but him and her. Sharp pain suddenly erupted from between her shoulders, and she whirled around to find the man standing a few yards away from her.

His hands were up beside him as balls of foil levitated around him. The sight was quite humorous, but she kept her laugh in, seeing that he was deadly serious. Behind him, she spotted the black flag; the flag she was supposed to retrieve.

"You did well with the others," Erik said. "As I said before, you're quick."

She smiled, bringing to thought the memory. "Again, thanks." Then she hefted her gun up and pulled the trigger.

The paintball never met its mark; as fast as lightning, Erik willed one of his foil balls to collide with the paintball. Arya then thought that maybe he had meant for the first one to fly past her.

"Damn," she muttered before dropping her gun to the ground. Erik smirked from where he floated off the ground (his feet weren't touching the ground), but it went away as quickly as it had come. Before she knew it, he was shooting his foil balls at her.

She instinctively rolled to the side, where luckily there was a piece of stray wheel. She took cover and poked her head out; but she wasn't looking at Erik.

_I'm still too far._ She'd never tried Cancelling from such a great distance._ I need to get closer._ She really could just make a run for the guy, but those foil balls looked like they would hurt. Her eyes flit left to right, looking for anything that could prove of use to her to get her closer. To her far right, she spotted a worn out yoga mat and thought, _I'll go with it._ She ran for it. Luckily for her, it was to Erik's right so she didn't have to run at him for it.

Behind her, foil balls whizzed past like bullets. _Those_ would_ hurt._ She began doubting her decision to go for a yoga mat. Nevertheless, she stuck with her plan. As soon as she was close enough, she snatched it off the ground and rolled behind a brick barricade.

"That won't help you," Erik said. His voice had gotten closer and Arya knew she didn't have much time.

"It's plastic!" she yelled back, fumbling with the mat. _This better keep those balls away._ She smirked for a moment at what she just told herself before sobering up.

"That's not what I meant."

That was when Arya came running out of her hiding spot. She held the mat in front of her, positioning it so that every foil ball that came close would be knocked away. It wasn't as large anymore considering she'd folded it up to make it thicker, but it worked.

Or Erik was just softening his blows.

At some point, the mat became too worn down to help her. A brilliant idea struck her and she reached out to Sean. He was still lying on the grass from where she had struck him down.

Using his mutation, she whistled. As she'd expected, the foil balls flying towards her were all forced back. She kept whistling, occasionally having to yell louder because of the force of Erik's throws.

She forged forward, getting closer until they were only feet apart. That was when she reached out to Erik. She didn't let go of her hold on Banshee—as Charles had taught her to keep hold of two at a time—as she forced herself into Erik's consciousness. She couldn't seem to take hold of his powers, however.

"Charles taught you a new trick, didn't he?" she asked, grimacing.

Erik smiled. "Yes."

That meant she couldn't use Charles' power to get into his mind as well. Arya cursed under her breath. They stood facing each other, neither of them attacking. She was curious as to why he wasn't, but grateful nonetheless. She racked her brain for ideas, but there were none. The only way for her to beat him was to disable his mutation.

_Time for the leap of faith._

She took hold of Banshee once more and yelled as loud as she could, making sure to only point the sound waves to Erik. Even he couldn't hold his own against it. His feet touched the ground and the foil balls around him fell.

Arya then let go of Banshee all together, forcing all her willpower to Erik. She visibly saw him struggling to fight against her, his brain trying to force her out. She kept pushing.

Erik had started lodging the foil balls at her again, but most of them whizzed past as he was too distracted. One had caught on her cheek. She felt blood flow out of the cut and throbbing pain (he'd thrown that hard), but she didn't stop.

Eventually, she was able to break his defenses. Before he could put them up again, Arya reached for Charles with one hand and took hold of his telepathy, most of her concentration still on Erik.

She surged through Erik's defenses. "Stop fighting," she ordered, her voice breaking under the extreme pressure. But he followed her order. The weight on her mind eased up and she immediately told him to lie down, already running for the nearest paintball gun.

She snatched it up and pointed it at his chest, breathing heavily and incredibly aware of the painful throbbing in the center of her brain. "Uncle?" she said, before pulling the trigger.


	13. Chapter 13 - O Holy Night

**THIS IS SHORT I KNOW I'M SO SORRY**

**p.s. FOX HAS NO STRINGS ON MEEEEEEEE BUT INSTEAD ON THE X-MEN FRANCHISSSEEE HAHAHHA**

* * *

**Chapter 13**

She munched on a cookie tiredly, not even thinking it was possible for her jaw to get tired with chewing. But that was happening with hers, and she grew annoyed.

The others had coaxed her into doing two more rounds after she beat Erik. During the second round, everything pretty much went the same way, but that time she had her boss battle with Raven. The more-experienced mutant had held nothing back; she didn't even hesitate to morph into Charles' body.

Arya had turned reluctant, then, and Raven smirked before kicking her ass.

It had taken her almost a full five minutes before Arya finally got her on her back, and even then her muscles were already sore.

During the third round, her boss battle was with Charles, the _real_ Charles; she didn't win that round. She wasn't surprised that she couldn't hold her mental defenses against him anymore. She was exhausted, both mind and body.

But when he was the one who pulled her up to her feet and helped her into the house, all ill will she held against the telepath disappeared, replaced by that familiar fluttering in her stomach. She remembered thinking to herself, _What's wrong with me? _He's_ the one who's supposed to have that stupid crush on _me_, not the other way around!_

Now, Arya sat on the kitchen island with a butter cookie in her fingers, and a glass of warm milk sitting beside her. It was the middle of the night and she had just woken up from another nightmare; or, more appropriately, from another bad _memory_. Traces of it were still stuck in her head, and she grimaced as she took another sip of milk. _One good night of sleep after a tedious training session, is that too much to ask?_ Her body protested at the small motion, but she held the mug to her lips anyway.

Earlier in the day, when she had finished taking a bath, she stood in front of the mirror—stark bare—and stared at the small bruises that lined up and down her stomach. Most were on her back, as most of her friends had shot at her from behind, but that hadn't made it any less painful to lean down and pick up a fallen towel.

Sure, she had given the others a fair amount of bruises on their torsos—for she had shot them in extreme close range—but she received more blows than all of them together.

Again, Arya grimaced, putting the mug back down onto the counter. She twisted her hand here and there, and then the other, before stretching her arms over her head. As expected, the joints popped and for a moment the soreness was gone. It settled in again after a few seconds as Arya was stretching her neck. There was a single bruise there from where Sean had accidentally shot her with a paintball; apparently, he was the only one between all of them who didn't have any experience with aiming a gun correctly.

The bones in her neck popped with a satisfying _crack_ and Arya settled back sighed contentedly, counting the seconds.

Despite the soreness and the fatigue that seemed to have found a home in her veins, she had this light feeling surrounding her. For the first time in days, she held a kind of certainty on her, and she wore it proudly on her chest (even though there were bruises there as well).

The feeling wasn't anything Arya had grown accustomed to. It was such a good feeling that it seemed impossible to feel it more than once; but vaguely she thought that she might have felt it a few times before.

Yes, she might have.

She might have felt it when she had her first kiss with that guy Chris on the beach underneath a blanket of stars; or she might have felt it when she heard Chloe's voice again the other night; or she might have felt it when they won their first trophy; or she might have felt it when Charles introduced to her the extents her powers could go.

She might have even felt it when she finally got to accept that her parents were dead.

Her mind lingered on it for quite a while; the mug of warm milk turning cold as she desperately sought for the answer to exactly _what_ she was feeling. Relief? Profound excitement? Exhilaration?

Before she could put her finger on it, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned around and found Charles standing by the doorway. He was in his night clothes, which consisted of striped blue pants and a white shirt. His hair was messy, and it was the first time Arya had seen it not gelled to perfection.

"Arya?" he said, rubbing at his eyes as he frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh…" She blinked once, and then stared, not used to seeing him looking like an average person who _didn't_ own a huge mansion. "Bad dream," she finally answered. She looked him up and down and bit back a smile. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Getting a drink." He snatched a glass from off the rack and started filling it up with tap water. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the glass.

Arya didn't say anything until he turned the tap water off and turned. Those piercing blue eyes seemed to be able to look through her and she shivered, replying bluntly. "Not really." Then she felt a light prodding in her mind, and she laughed slightly. "Charles, please stay out of my head."

"I'm sorry," he said, smiling as he sauntered closer to where she was sitting on the kitchen isle. "It's just—Raven's been keeping to herself as of late and I'm just worried that I might be doing something wrong."

"I appreciate your straightforwardness," Arya said teasingly, earning her a chuckle from the professor. She took another small bite from her cookie. "So… you think _I'm_ mad at you?"

He frowned and leaned against the countertop beside her. "It certainly seemed like that earlier today."

She allowed herself a small laugh. "I _was_, but then I had a change of heart. I can't seem to stay mad at you for long, anyway."

"I'm touched."

"Don't get used to it." Before he could do it, Arya flashed him her most charming smile. It was his turn for his legs to turn to jelly, and she actually visibly saw his knees wobble for a moment before he cleared his throat, looking away from her. It was probably too late at night for flirting anyway.

She watched as he took a sip of his tap water. "So what's up with Raven?"

Charles took another five seconds to compose himself before he answered. "She hasn't been talking to me. Quite frankly I think there's something going on between her and Erik."

Arya almost choked on her milk. _Raven and Erik?_ She remembered teasing her friend about it, and the sense that Raven was avoiding the subject. "Doesn't she like Hank?" she asked, still coughing because the warm milk had grazed the inside of her throat.

"I thought so as well," Charles said slowly, and Arya could feel his eyes on her. "We were mistaken, then."

"We were," she agreed, nodding. She still hadn't wrapped her head around the fact that _Raven_ had a thing for Erik. Was it because he was handsome? Because he was, but Arya supposed that Hank was as well.

_It's because he thinks she's beautiful_.

Yes, that had to be it. Arya remembered Raven telling her about the shot Hank was making for her that would take away her natural blue form but still retain her powers. Arya caught herself wondering if that was even possible.

And then there was Erik. He had been the one who pointed it out to Raven. _**"You want society to accept you when you can't even accept yourself."**_ That should have gotten it for him. All Raven wanted was to be thought she was beautiful, and Erik was giving her exactly that.

"Alright." Arya cleared her throat and shook her head lightly. "Change subject, please."

Charles smiled beside her. "You were very impressive during the session yesterday."

"Yeah?" She cocked her head to the side and looked at him with a sparkle in her eye. "What makes you say that?"

He chuckled as he set his glass down. "I'm serious," he said in a somber tone. "You were truly exceptional."

The way he drawled the words out made Arya's stomach flutter. "Thanks," she muttered, letting her hair fall on her face to hide the possible blush that was spreading across her cheeks. "I don't even know where all those fighting instincts came from." She really didn't.

"You shouldn't underestimate yourself, Arya."

"I shouldn't _over_estimate myself either, _Charles_," she retorted with a scoff. "And I didn't win that last one with you anyway."

"That's because I didn't hold anything back."

She frowned. "Why'd I beat you during the first and second round then?"

"Because you weren't exhausted then."

Arya thought it over for a moment before shrugging. She swung her legs off the counter, and when her feet touched the floor she immediately made her way to the sink. She didn't need more eye contact with the telepath than she needed; she didn't want to lead him on—or lead them _both_ on.

She started rinsing her mug. "So what's the plan tomorrow?"

Charles sighed behind her. "I was planning having some last one-on-one sessions with all of you before we try Capture The Flag again."

"Oh, _joy_," Arya muttered sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "I can't _wait_ to get hit by more paintballs. It's not like I have enough bruises already." She had said the last bit under her breath, not wanting to upset Charles with her problems. He had heard it, though.

When Arya felt soft hands touch her sides, she almost dropped her mug. Holding her breath, she set it down gently on the countertop by the sink before turning around. She found him standing only inches from her, his blue eyes staring into hers, concerned.

"How bad is it?" he asked, and he must have noticed the flustered look on her face, because his hands had fallen away from her sides.

Arya gulped, averting her gaze. "Not too bad," she said, adding in a short laugh. It didn't help. "It's not a big deal. I'm kind of used to the pain, and it's not like you guys don't have some too. Charles, I gave you a few, yeah?"

He didn't look convinced. "We need you at your full strength when we intercept Shaw. You know that, Arya."

"Charles, I'm telling you, the bruises won't affect what happens in the field."

"_How bad is it_?" He cut off each end of the word to emphasize, and Arya couldn't help but to roll her eyes at how persistent he was. It really wasn't a big deal, but she found herself flattered and grateful at his concern.

She said nothing, instead bending her neck to the side so he could see the bruise Sean had given her with his stray paintball. He made a move to touch it, and to her own surprise, Arya let him. She winced slightly when his finger touched the bruise, and he sent her an apologetic gaze before moderating his touch. It didn't feel bad, but it wasn't comfortable either.

"It's not that bad…" she trailed off. Arya could feel his breath fanning over her face, and while he stared at the bruise in concern, she looked up at him. Light stubble had collected below his nose, and she had to resist the urge to run her hands through his hair. They were both just recently up from bed, still in their pajamas, and it probably looked like the stupidest thing ever.

She was still staring at his face when Charles' gaze turned away from her neck and to her. His blue eyes smoldered, and she looked up at them with equal intensity. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. His thumb grazed her cheek and she shivered.

Something took hold of her, then, and she brought her hand up. Before she was able to touch his face, her gaze flitted to her gloved hands.

That brought her back to reality.

Charles' hands had already settled onto both sides of her waist when Arya gripped his arm firmly. He stilled. In that second of silence, she saw the internal war he was fighting in behind his eyes. And then his hands fell away, and he turned his gaze to the ground. Arya gave his arm another squeeze and closed her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek.

She slipped through the small space between him and the sink, getting her to the doorway out of the kitchen. She stood beneath it, staring at the telepath.

Charles cleared his throat and turned to look at her. "It's late, Arya," he said, and her heart broke at the distress clear on his face. He sent her a reluctant smile. "You should probably go back to bed."

And she did. Without another word, Arya turned around, rushed up the stairs, and collapsed back into her sheets. She closed her eyes tight and willed the darkness come to her and pull her into the endless void of dreams and memories, because for some reason, she was willing to have another dozen nightmares than to recollect about what had happened in that kitchen.

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**oh my gosh guys what do you think it's finally happening i can't even uisfghchekfhc WHAT DO YOU THINK WAS IT TOO MUCH I'M FREAKING OUT HERE I'VE NEVER DONE ANYTHING THIS INTENSE BEFORE AHAHAHAH [cockblockingatitsfinest]**


	14. Chapter 14 - Do I Wanna Know?

**I KNOW ALL OF YOU ARE PISSED ABOUT WHAT I DID IN THAT LAST CHAPTER, SO TAKE THIS IS A GESTURE OF MY GRATITUDE THAT YOU ARE STILL HERE. NEXT CHAPTER COMING RIGHT UP.**

**All rights go to Fox; except for Arya. She**'**s mine. She**'**s having boy trouble.**

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**Chapter 14**

_She could feel his breath fanning over her face. He was so close, their noses were practically touching. His hand ghosted over her cheek, while his thumb brushed against her lower lip. She sighed inwardly, practically vibrating with anticipation._

_ He had her pressed up against the wall, his one hand on her face while the other was placed firmly on the wall beside her head. It kept her from slipping away and to the door. Her frame shook, and it wasn't because the night was cold. His eyes pierced into her, seemed to look through her. And just as she was about to excuse herself, that was when he kissed her._

_ The kiss was hard, and desperate for reasons she didn't know nor did she need to know. His lips bruised against hers, and she returned his kisses with the same fervency._

_ His tongue brushed her lower lip and she moaned in contentment. She wound her hand in his hair, appreciating the feeling of his pushing at the small of her back. He pressed her firmly against him and she didn't fight._

_ When they finally pulled away, each of them was a hot mess. Her breaths came in short puffs as the kiss still lingered on her now-swollen lips. He still hadn't let go of her and was then leaning his forehead against hers._

_ Their noses touched, and he sighed._

_ He said, "Good night, Arya."_

* * *

**DAY 5**

Arya woke up to the familiar loud knocking on her door.

"Arya! Breakfast!" Raven yelled from the other side. It had easily become a routine for them, for Arya would never really get off her bed herself _willingly_ if it weren't for a particularly bad dream.

But her friend never woke her up before 11:30. Arya glanced at the wall clock, narrowing her eyes because it was across the room, and saw that it was just 8 o'clock. She groaned and put her pillow over her head. "Wake me up when it's lunch," she said. Her voice was muffled, but it was still loud enough to reach the door.

"Charles wants us finished with the sessions early so we can play Capture the Flag," Raven explained, knocking again. "Are you decent?"

"Of course I'm _decent_," Arya mumbled against her pillow. "I don't friggin' sleep in my underwear."

The door opened noisily and she threw her blanket over her head in an attempt to discourage the bouncy blonde. She groaned again when Raven practically jumped onto the bed, rocking the mattress.

"What time did you go to sleep?"

"Eleven," Arya muttered, digging her face deeper into the pillow. She could have suffocated but all she really wanted was to go back to sleep.

Raven laughed beside her. "Come on, that's already at least nine hours of sleep."

_What you _don't_ know is that I was at the kitchen for _at least_ half the night. _Arya sighed. She didn't want to tell her about what happened the previous night. In fact, she wasn't planning on telling _anybody_. No one really needed to know about the tension between her and their favorite telepath. If that were to happen, she was positive that things would turn awkward very fast. She just hoped it wouldn't make fighting in the same war more difficult than it needed to be.

The bed creaked softly when she flipped around to face Raven. She offered the mutant a sleepy, half-hearted smile. "I'll be down in ten minutes." Thankfully, the blonde got the message and left her. Once she was alone again Arya raised her arms over her eyes.

Traces of the dream were still fighting for attention at the corners of her mind. Arya wanted them to go away; she couldn't risk Charles snooping through her thoughts. And why wouldn't he? The scene they made in the kitchen was _disastrous_. And that dream Arya just had?

What was going on with her?

She showered quickly, mostly keeping the freezing water to her face to wake her up. When she was done, she dressed herself in pretty much the exact same clothing she wore the previous day, but this time, she tied her hoodie around her waist; more protection for the game.

Her limbs were still sore, and they yelled in protest with every step Arya took down the stairs. She focused more on the pain, and even though it was hell, it was still better than the alternative.

The noise was duller downstairs, and she quickly became suspicious. Arya peeked behind the wall and found all of them sitting in the living room. In the middle of their circle was a huge box, and Alex was rummaging through it with zeal. Arya jumped down the final step, announcing her presence.

Bad idea.

All eyes turned to her, but the only pair she was concerned about was Charles'. He sat on the wooden chair at the end of the room by the bookshelf, shifting in his seat when he saw her. For a few more torturous moments, Arya was forced to return his gaze. She could see the unspoken question behind his eyes, and she gulped.

When Alex exclaimed loudly—"Aha!" he said—she finally had a reason to look elsewhere. Arya stared at Charles for a moment longer before turning to look at Alex. He was holding up some kind of armor, and apparently it meant a great deal to him because he was beaming like a madman.

"Yes!" he said. "Heck yes! Finally!" He craned his neck to look at Charles, nodding his appreciation. The telepath returned it, somewhat unenthusiastically. Then Alex looked to Arya, who had just recently walked into the room. "No more bruises today, right, Arya?"

She raised her eyebrows and returned his smile, still staring at the armor in his hands. It was obviously for the paintball war they were going to have later in the day, but where had they come from?

For some reason, she turned her gaze to the professor again, and found him already staring at her. She raised a questioning eyebrow and he shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

In her mind, Arya spoke to him, knowing he was already—and _always_—listening. _"Is that an apology?"_ Around them, Alex and Erik were distributing body armors to everyone, but Arya watched as Charles inclined his head the slightest bit; a nod.

A smile threatened to spread across her cheeks because he really had _nothing_ to apologize for. The previous night was awkward for both of them, she knew that. But she also knew that she shouldn't blame Charles about it. There was an underlying mutualism with their feelings, and Arya discerned enough about herself to know when she was in denial.

Across from her, the telepath was still waiting for a response from her. Without breaking eye contact, she leaned down and got a piece of body armor for herself. She ran her hands over the length of it before permitting a grin.

Charles smiled before finally looking away, and Arya allowed herself to run her eyes over the thick piece of clothing in her hands. She sat next to Hank, who pulled his on his front, frowning. "No helmets or goggles?" he asked.

Everyone looked to the professor. He merely shrugged. "We only found those in the basement, Hank, and my father wasn't one to waste his money on silly games such as… paintball war." He smirked slightly at the last bit, and Erik chuckled from where he stood by the window (which seemed to be his favorite spot).

"It's not such a _silly_ game anymore, is it, Charles?"

The telepath shook his head, his eyes subtly turning to Arya. "Not at all."

She smirked at him right before Raven appeared from inside the kitchen, holding in her hands two steaming hot plates of bacon, eggs, and toast bread. She placed them on the already-set table before rubbing her hands together, regarding the group with sparkling eyes.

"Breakfast is served."

* * *

She glared at Erik from across the field. He was the only one left to put down, but it was already their fourth round and Arya was exhausted. Her gun-arm dangled limply by her side as the other was pointed at Erik. Her Third Eye struggled to find the chink in his mental defenses.

She had already tried—several times—to distract him using Banshee's power, but every time she stopped screeching and tried to breach his mind, his walls were already back up. He had been practicing, as Arya hadn't been.

There hadn't been any other way for her to confuse him. Raven's mutation wouldn't help her, neither would Charles', neither would Hank's. She had never used Alex's, but all of them were unsure as to how it would go. She was too afraid to try anyway.

For a few more minutes, Arya tried every possible thing to get through to Erik. She threw multiple large objects at him, but he would just use the foil balls—now newly-improved and bigger—to knock them away. She tried shooting him at point blank range, to no avail. She even tried going at him with just her fists, but he kept levitating away.

Arya didn't chase him around, knowing she would just look stupid. Behind him, the flag taunted her. Today, it was a bronze red, and it reflected her desperation. The rain didn't help either.

Yes, it was raining. The little drops fell on them in heavy sheets of freezing cold. They weighed Arya's clothes down and turned the ground muddy, making walking all the more harder for her.

She was fairly aware of the others standing behind her, watching—as she had permitted. And when no other ideas presented itself, she gave shooting the levitating mutant point blank another go. As she pressed her finger tight against the trigger, keeping her eyes on him as paintballs shot out from the barrel of her gun, she ran at a slow pace to get closer.

His aluminum foil balls caught the impacts of the paintballs. They spun around him in a dizzying orbit, catching the force of every one of the colored balls.

At the same time, Arya held her other hand out, still trying to get into his mind and to his power. She scowled when he smiled cockily at her and flicked his wrist, sending one of the foil balls toward her. She knew it was just his method of taunting her, but she had already given up all together.

The ball whizzed past her head, barely missing her ear. Arya stopped shooting and dropped both her hands, letting her paintball gun fall to the ground the same time she did.

Stretching her legs out in front of her and her arms behind her to steady herself, Arya let her head fall back and she closed her eyes tight, fighting away the migraine that had appeared because of fatigue. "I yield," she said in a strangled gasp.

Erik's feet touched the ground beside her. He looked down at her, obviously amused by her current condition. "What was that?" he asked, and Arya saw the slightest hints of a smirk trailing up his lips.

She exhaled deeply, repeating, "I yield."

"We can't have that, can we?"

Her eyes flew open and the first thing she saw was a frown on the mutant's face, all traces of enjoyment gone with the wind. She glared. "I'm _tired_, Erik. _I yield_," she repeated again. Behind her, the others had walked into the course once again. Apparently, they'd heard what she said and _accepted_ it.

Erik still hadn't.

"If you can't beat me, what makes you think you'll stand any chance against Shaw?" he said, antagonizing her.

"Shaw will be wearing a friggin' helmet that can keep even Charles out. I think I have a pretty good excuse. And I've beaten you a lot of times before," she retorted, panting. "I just need five minutes and then we can—"

"Do you think our enemies will give you _five minutes_ when we're facing off against them?" he cut her off. The aluminum foil balls he'd been using before now lay on the ground beside them, completely forgotten. "This is exactly what we've been trying to improve: your _endurance_. How much have you been using your powers?"

"Enough!" Arya snapped, sitting up. "I've been using it _enough_, and wejust started this crappy workout yesterday! Do you really expect me to beat _you_ singlehandedly after two straight hours of using my powers?"

"This workout has been tiring for all of us and yet you claim that you should be the exception? Charles has clearly been too soft on you."

That did it. The thin cord of patience she had left broke and she was on her feet in an instant, her eyes burning with anger. "Do you have _any_ idea how hard it is for me—?"

"It's hard for all of us!"

"YOU DON'T GET IT!" Arya stomped her foot, sending chunks of mud flying in every direction. "I haven't used my powers in _years_. I only just started using them again because _you people_ can't take down a single threat. It's been _five days_, and I'm already exhausted out of my mind." She was yelling now, and she could see the surprise on Erik's face at her sudden outburst, but she didn't stop.

"Do you want to know why I stopped? I'm sure you guys have been whispering behind my back about how I had turned away from the world's special _plans_ for me. But let me tell you this." Her voice dropped an octave and she stepped up. Erik was still taller than her, but her anger was stronger.

"When I was twelve, I sent a little boy to the hospital because I held his face in my hands for too long. That same day, my mother tucked me in; and guess what? I killed her because she was trying to _comfort_ me." Erik opened his mouth to say something, probably going to tell her to stop, but Arya cut him off before anything escaped his lips. "When I was fifteen, my dad brought me to New York. We ate in this fancy restaurant for Christmas; and there was music and dancing. At the end of the night, I ended up killing him too. How'd that happen? It's because he _held my hand_ for more than thirty seconds."

She fought back the tears, but when they fell she pretended they were raindrops slipping down her cheeks. The look Erik sent her was one of genuine sadness and sympathy, but she returned nothing. Only anger. Only self-hatred. "I don't know about you, but I refuse to be _mutant and proud_." She shook her head, and she could feel her lips trembling. "I'm not proud of _killing my parents_."

The seconds that passed afterwards were complete agony. Arya still had not torn her eyes away from Erik's. She challenged him to say anything more, seeing his discomfort. When his hand rose from his side and made a move to settle on her arm, she slapped it away. That was when she dropped her gaze to the ground, and when Erik finally slipped past her and walked away.

Her back was to the others, and she clenched her hands into fists, feeling the bite of her fingernails against her skin. The memories she'd fought so hard to keep back came like a river; a river of pain, sorrow, torment. She waded in it as her heart tore itself into a million pieces.

When she felt a hand on her arm, Arya turned around to find Charles staring down at her earnestly. There were tears in his eyes as well, and she suspected he'd been in her mind. She didn't care anymore. His hands travelled lower, and for a moment he was able to touch hers, but she quickly pulled away.

Arya ran past him and past the others, into the house and to her room, where she hit the wall again and again and again, hoping it would relieve her of all the pain and the anger, but it helped as much as she had expected it to. Nothing.

She swiped her arms over her bedside table, knocking everything clean off. They clattered to the floor and she sat beside them, cradling her head in her hands. She took deep breaths. _In… out… In… out…_ A knock came on her door and she didn't reply. It opened anyway, and Charles immediately stepped into the room.

For a minute, he just stood there and stared at her. And she stared back, sniffling. But when he rushed up to her and knelt in front of her and wrapped his arms around her, Arya accepted his touch without hesitation. She leaned into him, and he placed his chin on her head.

Arya continued her ragged breathing for a while longer, determined to plug the weakness back into the dam. However, when Charles placed a kiss on the top of her head, murmuring the words "It's alright" into her hair, her walls broke down all over again.

She sobbed into his chest, and he kept kissing the top of her head, murmuring the same words over and over again. He didn't know if it helped or not, but he wasn't afraid to try.

* * *

**REVIEW PLEASE.**


	15. Chapter 15 - This Is War

**I LOVE YOU DON**'**T HATE ME**

**(All rights go to Fox. Except for Arya. She**'**s mine.)**

* * *

**Chapter 15**

Arya stared at a spot on the ground because Charles was staring solemnly at her—_into_ her, it sometimes seemed. It had been exactly seventeen minutes (she counted) since she'd stopped crying— not including the two minutes she'd spent just breathing in the scent of him.

In those seventeen minutes, he had not taken his eyes off her. That stubborn and foolish part of Arya's brain told her stupid things, things like _"He's mad at you"_ or _"He thinks you're weird"_. Every time she begun to believe them, she would flit her eyes to meet his for a fraction of a second, and she could see no such thing as anger or disgust on his face.

She didn't know what she saw, but he was frowning, his eyebrows were furrowed, and his fingers were pushing against his temple. It looked like he was trying to read her mind, but she couldn't feel any prodding or disturbance in her head; only the memories she was fighting to keep away.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" she finally said. Arya raised her head to find him very much the same way, except his hand had fallen to his side and he was leaning forward.

"Was all of that true?" he asked. "Everything you said to Erik? Were they true?"

Arya sniffled slightly. "Of course they were true," she said, noting that, when she said this, the crease on his forehead eased up. "And I wasn't joking about not being proud of my abilities either," she added gravely. "I hated myself… for months, after what I did to them… to my parents."

Charles stood up from his seat and she looked up just as he squatted in front of her.

He cupped her face in his warm hands, and she leaned into his touch. "You have the most amazing mutation I have ever seen, Arya."

She frowned. "You say that as if people won't die if I touch them for too long."

For a long moment, he seemed to hesitate. The crease on his forehead returned, and he looked genuinely taken aback. His hands fell away from her cheeks. Arya was about to apologize when he lifted one of her hands into his. She had only recently pulled the gloves back on; now they seemed to glare at her with malice.

When Charles made a move to pull them off, she pulled back slightly. She knew, however, that he meant no harm. But the first time someone had tried to take her gloves off, that _someone_ was human—and he went home with a barely-flexible hand.

The professor looked up at her, asking for permission, and Arya—somewhat reluctantly—granted him that. She relaxed her hand and watched with cautious eyes as he pulled the glove off. He held her hand between both of his, and the only thing she could think about was how they'd never felt so warm before.

New tears sprang forth from her eyes when Charles positioned her hand on his face so that she was cradling his cheek. "That may be—the average human might die…" He held her hand to his cheek as Arya searched his eyes for the lie, for the falsehood she'd sometimes seen in even her parents, but there was none.

He smiled softly at her. "But I won't."

A single tear trailed down her cheek when he said that, and he wiped it away with his thumb. "You don't have to be afraid _with me_, Arya," he said. She sniffled, taking a shaky breath and nodding her head, trying to convince herself more than him. He continued, "You don't have to be afraid with any of us."

"I know," Arya whispered, closing her eyes and leaning forward. "I know." Somewhere along the way, Charles' forehead met with hers, and she opened her eyes to find his brimming with tears. She almost made a move to kiss them away, but she held back.

He said, "You are the most exquisite person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, do you know that?"

"Next to Raven," she added with a laugh.

Charles shrugged in front of her. "Possibly."

"And Erik."

"No," he said, his voice turning serious. "Not Erik." She stopped laughing and saw that he really meant what he said. Her heart melted then and there, and without really thinking to, her eyes flitted downward to his lips before going back to his eyes. Her stomach dropped—in a pleasant kind of way, if that was possible—when she found him doing the same.

His mouth rose up the slightest bit, and she could feel his hot breath on her lips. Arya closed her eyes, cherishing the perfect moment and the feeling of butterflies in her stomach.

That was when three firm knocks sounded on the door. "Arya?" Raven's husky voice was unmistakable. "Can I come in?"

"No," Arya called back, having already leaned away from Charles. "You cannot." She frowned at the look on his face. He had already risen to his full height, with his hands on his hips and his lips drawn into a thin line—he looked exactly like a college professor would look. But for some reason, Arya found herself unamused. He glared at the door, and she knew that he was upset with Raven for ruining their moment.

Arya smiled to herself. _We had a "moment"._ The thought sent shivers down her spine and a fluttering feeling in her stomach. She glanced worriedly at the telepath one last time before walking to the door. She opened it, but just a little bit so only her head was revealed.

"What?" she said, putting on her best angry-at-the-world look. She was thankful that her eyes were still puffy. It gave the blonde outside the door the perfect impression.

Raven looked sheepish. Her eyes were wide when Arya opened the door, and she fiddled with her fingers. She _never_ fiddled with her fingers. "Hey," she said breathlessly, as if she'd run all the way. Arya was sure she hadn't been. "Are you… you know… okay?"

Arya merely shrugged, too distracted about the man behind her to answer. She risked a peek over her shoulder and found him standing by the bed, wringing his hands and a nervous look on his face.

The blonde standing outside cleared her throat, making Arya look to her again. "Well, Erik just wanted me to let you know that the president's on," Raven said, her eyes flitting inside the room, but otherwise the mutant stayed outside, albeit slightly curious. "And he might be making his address pretty soon."

"I'll be down in a bit," Arya said, offering a slight smile.

Raven didn't look convinced. "He didn't mean what he said." Arya looked at her in confusion. "Erik, I mean."

"He meant it," Arya said, the edge returning in her voice. "I know he did." Raven averted her gaze, nodding her head sadly. The look on her friend's face made Arya regret what she'd said; but she didn't mean it any less. She thought about it for a moment before shrugging. "But he's forgiven."

Her friend raised her head. "And like I said," Arya continued. "I'll be down in a bit." At that, she shut the door, and the last thing she saw was Raven grinning like a schoolgirl.

Arya turned around with a sigh, but her spirits were instantly lifted when she saw Charles standing in the middle of the room, his hands in his pockets and a smirk already on his face. "Forgiven him so soon?"

"I got over it," she replied, walking up to him and placing her hand on his arm, squeezing it in a gesture of gratefulness. "And he has you to thank for that."

Charles chuckled, pulling her hand away from his arm and gripping it tightly in both of his. "And what can I get in return?" There was this mischievous tilt in his voice that made Arya's head swoon, but she kept her composure.

She smiled and, without warning, leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She held her lips there for a moment longer, letting the feeling of it burn into her memory before pulling away. Charles' lips were pursed and for a moment she was afraid. Had she done something wrong?

But then he sighed, saying, "I was expecting something that required more… contact."

Arya laughed, mostly because of surprise rather than amusement. Did he really mean that? Or was he just channelling his inner Fred Astaire? She brought her hand up to his cheek, her thumb brushing where she'd kissed him before she let it drop.

"We should get downstairs," she said, still not looking away from his eyes.

They sparkled with mirth. "And should we go there together?"

"Probably not," she said, pursing her lips before grinning again. The others didn't need to know about their… _blossoming_ relationship; at least, not yet.

Charles returned the smile and placed a hand on her shoulder. "My turn." Then he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead. Arya sighed, closing her eyes in contentment just before he pulled away and made for the door. He glanced back at her, flashing her one more signature smile of his before going outside.

Arya went to the mirror immediately. She looked herself up and down. Her hair was still in a ponytail, but it had turned messy over the past few hours. She still hadn't changed out of her workout clothes, and they were covered in paint splatters and mud.

The little piece of room behind her was just as dirty as she was but she paid it no attention, instead keeping her eyes on her face. Clean streaks amidst the dried mud ran down her cheeks from where the tears had streamed, but her eyes were no longer puffy, and her nose no longer red.

Her lips, instead of quivering, were pulled up into a wide smile.

She was utterly _joyous_.

And when she stood in front of the door, her hand just hovering above the knob, her thoughts wandered back to Charles. _Maybe my fondness of him has grown into something more…_ The thought didn't feel so wrong, and Arya wondered whether they would last. A dark cloud of doubt loomed ahead, but she hurriedly blew it away.

If there was a possibility of her dying in the fray, she might as well spend her last few days—or hours—in the world living a happy life, yes? _And who better to spend it with_, she thought, smiling, _than with this charming telepath?_

* * *

Coming down the stairs, Arya could hear almost nothing but silence inside the TV room, where supposedly everyone was, and on other occasion it would have caused her deep distress—but then, everyone had been there when she yelled at Erik.

Everyone knew. Not just Charles, not just Raven, not just Erik, but everyone. She knew that it was bound to happen; hell, she was surprised that it hadn't happened earlier already. But she couldn't help but pray that it wouldn't happen _at all_.

She stood outside the door. Inside, she could hear slight static coming from the TV, but over that, a woman was speaking—something about the presidential congress coming to a decision. She took a deep breath and put her hand on the door knob.

Inside the room, almost none of them were sitting at all. Alex, Sean, and Hank were standing behind Charles, who seemed to be the only one bent on being comfortable. To their left was Erik. Just as all eyes turned to her, Arya was looking for a particularly familiar blonde when she seemed to have appeared out of nowhere and tackled her into a hug.

"I'm so sorry," Raven exclaimed. She was still holding the girl in a tight bear hug, and Arya was having trouble breathing.

Nevertheless, she patted her friend on the back reassuringly. "It's okay," she said. "Whatever you did, I forgive you." Arya laughed into Raven's shoulder, because she honestly had no idea what she had done. _If something's happened in the brief hours that I was gone, I swear—_

"I don't know. I just think I should have hugged you before," Raven replied, murmuring into Arya's hair.

Arya exhaled (with much trouble). "Okay, now that you've hugged me, I think we should listen to the president's address, yeah?" When the blonde mutant finally let her go, Arya immediately narrowed her eyes.

Erik walked up to her, holding his hands up with an innocent look on his face. "Peace," he said, planting his feet on the ground in front of her. Raven had gone away to sit next to Charles on the arm of his sofa chair, leaving Arya face to face with the man she'd snapped at only hours before.

"What do you want?" she muttered, not meeting his eyes—partly because of embarrassment, and partly because she was still angry with him.

She could feel his eyes boring into her as he spoke. "I just wanted to apologize," he said. "For being so inconsiderate. I know that you have had a hard past. We all have—and it's true, we've been pushing you. But you must understand why that is." Arya looked up and finally met his resolute gaze. "You are our most crucial weapon against Shaw. We can't afford to have you weak on the battlefield, Arya."

"I know that," she replied, nodding. "But you didn't have to be such a douche about it."

He smirked at her choice of words. "I suppose I should have been more patient with you. You've improved on your powers so much these past few days. We should be thankful for that."

She frowned but otherwise accepted his apology. Erik was a hard man at heart, she supposed. Arya offered him a small smile before making her way to Charles. She sat cross-legged on the floor by his feet, not wanting to sit on the arm of his chair because she was afraid of what the others would think of the close proximity. Raven still had no idea that he had been in her room earlier.

Arya couldn't help but to wonder what would have been her reaction as president Kennedy's face flashed onto the screen. In black and white, he spoke.

"_It shall be the policy of this nation to regard any nuclear missile crossing the embargo line that surrounds Cuba as an attack by the Soviet Union on the United States, requiring a full retaliatory response upon the Soviet Union..."_

Charles had told them enough about their little detour the other day—in which, they had met a particularly seductive telepath; Emma Frost, she called herself—that Arya knew it was all a part of Shaw's plan.

Behind her, Erik held the remote in his hands as he motioned to the television. "That's where we're going to find Shaw," he said. Meanwhile, the little grey box was now displaying scenes explaining how most of the population were being taken into bomb shelters.

"How do you know?" Arya piped up, still not taking her eyes off the TV.

"Two superpowers facing off and he wants to start World War 3," Charles answered. Vaguely, she could feel the warmth of his leg beside her. "He won't leave anything to chance."

"So much for diplomacy," Erik said, and Arya peeked over her shoulder to see him smirking slightly. She knew that he wanted all of this to happen, so he could kill Shaw. Now, he had a reason to, and it was a pretty damn good reason. He glanced down at her, saying, "I suggest you all get a good night's sleep." Then he walked out.

"Melodramatic, much?" Arya sighed, plopping her hands down on her lap. "That's it, then? We kill Shaw tomorrow?" She looked over her shoulder to Charles.

As the others stood up and walked out of the room, he frowned down at her. "Not kill. We _stop_ him."

_Same point. _She shrugged and nodded out the door. "Tell that to Erik." Arya caught the anxious look on his face and immediately regretted her choice of words. She knew all about the spark of friendship the professor had with the metal-moving mutant. But Erik had so much darkness in him, so much anger…

… She was worried that something would happen to Charles, if ever that darkness spread; anger was nothing but a flame, a flicker of light that would soon turn to burn down everything in its path.

And right now, Charles was standing in the middle of the road like a deer caught in headlights.


	16. Chapter 16 - Some Nights

**Ask (nicely) and ye shall receive.**

**ALL RIGHTS GO TO FOX AND MAYBE MARVEL I**'**M STILL CONFUSED ABOUT THE WHOLE THING ANYWAY ONLY ARYA IS MINE.**

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**Chapter 16**

_One good night of sleep, is that too much to ask?_

It was an hour and a half more until midnight, and Arya couldn't sleep, which didn't really come as a surprise anymore but was still the same account of annoying. Her mind deluged her with thoughts of her family, her past, Charles, and even of Carlsbad—her friend waiting for her on that beach. _Should I call her again?_ Arya thought many times to herself. _To say goodbye?_ Was she even going to survive the fight tomorrow?

She knew she couldn't afford to be thinking such things, but it was the dead of night and her mind was bustling with activity—as it always did. Although, Arya already had a growing suspicion that she wasn't the only one still awake. Behind the door, the lights were still on. If Raven—who slept in the room across Arya's—had already went to sleep then she would have turned off the lights.

With a loud sigh, Arya heaved herself out of the sheets and off the bed. She poked her head out the door and indeed found that Raven was still very much awake inside her room. Or, at least, her lights were still on.

Arya closed the door behind her, but before she could take two steps, Hank was walking briskly down the hall and towards her. He held a small box in his hands and she wondered what that could possibly have to do with her. She hadn't been conversing with the scientist as much as she'd hoped in the past few days, but that was mostly because he was in his lab all the time.

Hank nodded at her, looking nervous. "Hi, Arya," he said, and she opened her mouth to reply but he was already knocking on Raven's door.

She smirked before practically skipping down the hall. _T'was the night before war and two friends decided to have sex._ It wasn't like they were in any real danger; Arya doubted that Charles would decide to put Raven in harm's way before any of them. Hank, however, was a different story.

Her aspired destination was supposed to be the kitchen, as she thought that maybe warm milk mixed with sleeping pills would do the trick, but when she heard hushed voices speaking inside the living room, her curiosity won her over.

Arya stayed hidden behind the wall and listened in.

"... makes no difference." It was Charles speaking. "Shaw has declared war on mankind, on all of us. He has to be stopped."

By then, she'd discerned enough to know that he'd be talking with Erik. There was no one else in the house he'd be with this late at night other than Raven, and the bouncy blonde was upstairs in her room. Arya was right.

"I'm not going to stop Shaw," Erik stated, and Arya already knew what he was going to say before he did. "I'm going to kill him." She whispered the words to herself the same time he said it. "Do you have it in you to allow that?" he continued.

She heard a sigh come from the professor, but then Erik was speaking again. "You've known all along why I was here, Charles. But things have changed. What started as a covert mission, tomorrow, mankind will know that mutants exist. Shaw, us, they won't differentiate. They'll fear us, and that fear will turn to hatred."

Arya stilled and resisted the urge to knock her head on the wall. The man had a point. He had a _very_ good point. She knew as much as they all did about how humans would react, what would happen if they found out that mutants existed—that they had the power to _destroy_ all of them. Yes, they would fear them. But after that, they would want to retaliate and strike back. It had never been a smart move, but that's what humans did.

"Not if we stop a war," Charles replied. "Not if we can prevent Shaw. Not if we risk our lives doing so." Arya shrugged, knowing that none of those things would change anything.

"Would they do the same for us?"

"We have it in us to be the better men."

"We already are," Erik insisted, an exasperated tone edging into his voice. "We're the next stage of human evolution. You said it yourself!"

She could hear that Charles tried to say something, but instead he sighed again. And she did too, just as Erik spoke again. "Are you really so naïve as to think that they won't battle their own extinction? Or is it arrogance?"

"I'm sorry?" the telepath said. Arya held her breath.

"After tomorrow, they're going to turn on us, but you're blind to it because you believe they're all like Moira."

"And you believe they're all like Shaw," Charles retorted, and Arya was surprised to hear the familiar gentle tone in his voice. "Listen to me _very_ carefully, my friend," he said. "Killing Shaw will _not_ bring you peace."

"Peace was never an option."

Arya barely heard it, but up to then, she'd heard enough. She straightened up, put on her best sleepy face, and continued to the kitchen, ignoring the silence that emitted from the living room. It seemed as if the two had ruined each other's moods.

Thankfully, neither of them disturbed her while she was mixing up her mug of warm milk and sleeping pills, but when she'd finally been able to go back up her room, Arya found something she did _not_ need to know about.

Raven stood outside Erik's door, wearing only a robe and nothing else, not even slippers. Her hand was already on the knob and she was about to step inside when Arya stopped her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, confused, and yet thrilled at the same time. It was exhausting.

"Dammit, Arya!" Raven exasperated, immediately shooing her away. "Go to bed!"

"Not until you tell me what you're doing."

Raven sighed loudly. "I've found my recklessness," she said, and Arya smirked. "Now, go! And tell no one about this."

Arya raised her hands in a gesture of defeat and walked away, only pausing for a few seconds to ask, "What happened with Hank?" The only reply that came was the closing of a door. Again, she smirked to herself. She reached the door to her bedroom and turned her head to see Erik walking down the hall. _Just in time._ He opened the door, went inside, but didn't close it until after a considerably long amount of time.

_ At least some of us are having fun._

* * *

The pills didn't seem to be working, for some unprecedented reason. Arya found that out by lying in bed for almost an hour, which was more than ample time for the drugs to kick in. Her eyelids weren't even drooping, and her limbs were still buzzing with energy.

For another ten minutes, she was left alone with her thoughts—thoughts on _everything_—until her door opened. Through the darkness, she could see Raven's head poking through the frame.

"Hey, Raven," Arya said, sitting up, thankful that she then had a distraction. Then she saw the glum expression on her friend's face and immediately perked up. "What's wrong?"

"Your boyfriend's being an ass."

"Charles?" _And no, Raven, he's not my boyfriend._ "What'd he do?"

"Doesn't matter." She opened the door wider, and with the help of the light coming from outside, Arya could then see that her friend was in her blue form, stark naked. Her eyes widened but she said nothing of it. Raven continued, "Could you _please_ go talk to him? He'd listen to you."

Arya tore her eyes away from Raven and focused on placing her feet on the ground. "Uh, s-sure, I guess… isn't he already asleep, or something?"

"I doubt that, but the others are." Arya had no idea what that had to do with anything. "So you'll do it? You'll talk to him?"

"Yeah, but I don't know what about." She stretched, letting the bones crack as her eyebrow went up questioningly.

Raven sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "Charles thinks I should take that serum Hank's been working on. He thinks it'd _help_ me."

"And you don't think it will?"

"I think that I should learn to accept something that I was born with… come to see it as a gift."

Arya raised her head, afraid of the edge that had crept into her friend's voice. She found her staring at the ground, an utterly miserable look on her face. Arya walked to her and put her hand on her arm (after making sure her gloves were on). She smiled softly, saying, "I'll talk to him."

* * *

To her dismay (and to Raven's complete delight), Arya found that the telepath was already in his room. _Here goes nothing._ She took a deep breath, and placed three solid knocks on the door.

"Come in," came the reply, and she opened the door.

He was sitting on the bed, still in his regular attire, and the vest, with what looked to be a picture frame in his hands. He seemed to have been staring at it before, only raising his head when Arya stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

"Arya," he said, a small smile lighting up his face. "What brings you here at this hour? You should be asleep." He set the picture on his bed, facing down. She didn't mind. She respected his privacy.

She smiled. "Trust me, I tried." She remained by the door, her hands clasped behind her as her stomach turned in on itself in anxiety. She was fully aware of her attire—a large white shirt with only significantly short shorts underneath. She had been ready to go to bed, but sleeping pills in the house were apparently ineffective.

She frowned and spoke, wanting to distract herself from the nervousness practically coursing through her veins. "I wanted to talk to you, actually," she said, and watched as he raised a questioning eyebrow. "About Raven."

"Ah, yes…" Charles looked back down to his hands, and Arya, feeling a spark of boldness in her, walked to his bed and sat beside him. More than a few inches away, but it was enough.

"What happened?"

She watched as he wrung his hands, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "She told me what she was thinking."

Arya's lip twitched. "And?"

"And," he started, sighing. "She now thinks I am the bad guy." There was a glass of what looked to be whiskey sitting on his bedside table, and he snatched it away from the flat top, taking a large gulp before setting it back down again.

Arya frowned, subtly scooting over closer so as to stop him from drinking any more if he would. "Do you really think she should take that serum?"

"I don't know, Arya," he said, sounding frustrated but all she saw on his face was confusion and hurt. "All I've been trying to do, all my life, is to protect her. I thought it was what she wanted: to look normal, to finally be able to walk in public without having to look like a completely different person."

She shrugged lightly. "Maybe she's changed her mind."

"Yes, I'm sure Erik had a part in that too." He made another reach for the glass, but Arya stopped his hand from ever reaching it. Immediately, his head whipped around to look at her. She met his gaze, and after a few moments, he dropped his arm back onto his lap. "I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "It's just… Erik—"

"I know what Erik said," Arya interrupted. Confusion flashed across his face, before quickly being overruled by understanding. He smiled slightly. "And I know that you worry about him—he _and_ Raven, but sometimes you can't always be able to tell people what to do. You have to accept their decisions." She was still holding his hand in hers, and she gripped it tightly, holding his gaze. "Just like you accepted me."

His other hand was placed onto hers, instantly cupping it in warmth. For a moment, he didn't say anything. They both just sat there in silence, staring at each other, before Charles reached for her other hand. She let him, watching his actions with curious eyes.

He pulled her gloves off, both of them, and cupped her hands in his. He brought them to his lips and kissed them, and Arya was surprised enough to not pull away. His lips were soft—as she'd experienced only once before, on her forehead—and his breaths were slow and warm, rolling off her skin and bringing that wonderful feeling back into her stomach.

She resisted the urge to sigh, instead smiling when he pulled his lips away. He smiled back, but didn't drop her hands. "I'll try," he whispered, gripping her hands even tighter.

For a long while, Arya felt like the safest person in the world. The room was dim, but through the soft haze of the moonlight through the window, she was able to see him and only him, and a sense of security engulfed her. His hands were with hers, and it felt good.

But the moment was gone as soon as it came, and her sanctuary was replaced with that of the fact that tomorrow, they were going to either stop a war, or make it worse. She sighed deeply, looking down at their hands. She gulped down the growing lump in her throat and asked, "What do you think's gonna happen tomorrow?"

Charles ran his thumb across her knuckle. His touch was feather-light and it made her shiver. "Tomorrow, we are going to stop a war," he said. "We are going to capture Shaw and prevent him from starting anything else that might endanger the country, and we'll—"

"Charles." He stopped talking and looked at Arya, scrunching up his eyebrows. She smiled softly. "What do _you_ think?"

She waited for his answer in all anxiety, but relaxed when he released a breathy chuckle. "_I_ think," he started, "that after all this is over and we are all safely back here, _you_ are going to whip up another batch of that pasta you made a few nights ago."

Arya laughed loudly. "With the eggplants?"

He nodded his head vigorously. "You are also going to give me the recipe."

"Am I?"

"Yes, you are."

She laughed again and saw him laughing as well. However, when both of them sobered up, everything was quiet. She loved the way he looked at her, with his eyes gleaming and his lips slightly quirked upwards. Something in her told her that she was looking at him the same way as well.

He leaned forward, his eyes flitting down to her lips. Arya found herself doing the same. And neither of them knew when it happened; but one moment, they were staring at each other, and the next their lips were bruising against the others.

The kiss was desperate, needy. Her arms were wound around his neck, and vaguely, she felt his hand on the small of her back, keeping her close as she did the same with him. Everything was so very much more different than the last kiss he'd given her, the one on her forehead; the last one was soft, gentle, and while what Charles was doing was gentle as well, there was so much more.

There was passion, and greed, as if he'd been waiting for this to happen for a long time. Arya thought to herself, _"_We _have been waiting for this for a long time."_ She was surprised when Charles pulled her onto his lap so that she was straddling him. She was only able to chuckle for a second before his mouth descended on hers again.

It relieved her that he wasn't shocked about the kiss, and that he delved as deep into it as she did. It was a refreshing feeling, seeing (and feeling) him that way instead of the cool and reserved mentor and professor. As she ran her hands down his chest, he had his hands beneath her shirt, running them up and down her back, causing shudders to roll down her spine.

They pulled away at the same time, and when they did, they were a hot mess. Arya kept her hands cupped behind his neck as she tried to regain her breath, and he kept his on her hips. Her heart was beating frantically against her chest, and she wondered if he could feel it. They were so close together that she was sure he could.

He exhaled deeply, making her open her eyes. She saw that he was smiling. "That was something," he murmured, pulling a strand of hair away from her face.

She leaned closer again and placed her forehead on his, smiling when she remembered the conversation they had earlier that day. "Was that something that required more contact?"

Charles remembered as well and chuckled. "It was."

And for a while, they remained in that position, burning the memory of it into their heads; Arya all the more. It wasn't her first kiss, but it was her best, and it was with someone she shared quite a bond with.

She closed her eyes and rubbed the thick stubble of hair behind his neck. "Charles, tomorrow, we—"

He cut her off, kissing her. Her words died in her throat and she closed her eyes. It wasn't like the previous one they'd shared; none of the lust. The passion remained there, but it was gentle, and only lasted for a few seconds. When he pulled away again, he smiled softly at her.

"You need not worry, love," he said, and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. "I won't let anything happen to you."

* * *

**Satisfied? ;)**

**anyway, we**'**re coming close to the end of this part of the story. it continues on to Days of Future Past, of course, you lovelies need not worry about the story falling short. :)**

**REVIEW PLEEEAASE!**


	17. Chapter 17 - Into The Fray (Part 1)

**so i divided the final battle of First Class into three parts, all of which I will be posting TODAY in STRAIGHT UPDATES!**

**i don't know if it's generous or stupid of me to do so, but i'm doing it anyway AHAHAH**

**this first part is sort of filler-ish, and so is the second; the major action starts and ends at the third part. ^^**

**without further ado... here you go. (how artsy, ellesmer. good job.)**

**I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING EXCEPT FOR ARYA. SHE'S MINE. SHE'S IN LOVE.**

* * *

**Chapter 17 (PART 1)**

Breakfast the next morning in the living room was quiet, save for the silent and brief exchanges between Charles and Erik. From time to time, the telepath would throw a quick glance to Arya, who sat across the room from him. He would send her reassuring smiles, and she would wonder if he was nervous about everything as well.

She was nervous, but not as much as she'd originally thought she would be. Some part of her was actually beaming with confidence, but when she stepped out of the shower and looked into the mirror, it would topple a block off her mast of assurance. Arya looked herself over, frowning at her bony wrists. Were they bony? Or were they just normally like that?

Stepping out of the bathroom, she heard Raven calling to her from outside the door of her room. "Arya!" she yelled. "Assembly downstairs in five minutes!"

"Alright," Arya called back, already zipping open her duffel bag. There, she pulled out a dress and eyed it warily. It wasn't going to help her very much when the fighting began, but she safely assumed that Charles, or Erik, or Hank, or Raven, had made some kind of suits for their company.

Fighting in sweatpants and hoodies was one thing, but in dresses and skirts and jeans? It was silly to even think of.

Once she was dressed and had her jacket on (because Raven apparently thought it best to buy her a very _revealing_ dress), Arya made her way downstairs. The rest were waiting in the hall, dressed in casual attires and black jackets. She was the only one not wearing black, and she frowned when she noticed.

Charles had been busy giving them a speech, apparently, one that Arya honestly didn't want to hear—but bless the man, at least he was trying to embolden them. Luckily, when she arrived, he had already reached the end of it and was then leading them to Hank's lab. When she asked why, Charles glanced over his shoulder and smirked, but said nothing.

Her stomach dropped. _Uh-oh._

There was a paper pinned on the door of the lab. It said:

_Gone to the airbase, bring the crate marked X._

_Hank_

Arya narrowed her eyes. _Airbase…?_ Charles tore the paper off and opened the doors.

The lab was a complete mess; chairs and tables were overturned, there were a million glass shards on the floor, some chemicals had even leaked onto the floor. Everyone made it a point to avoid those. Charles walked inside, stepping over everything that deemed to be a threat, and made his way across the room.

"What the hell happened here?" Erik asked. Charles merely glanced over his shoulder, but didn't answer. Arya frowned and looked to Raven. She was in her blue form, and Arya vaguely remembered Erik whispering into her ear. Afterwards, she would always smile. Arya assumed it was him reassuring her, but now, she looked completely worried about the missing young scientist.

Raven wouldn't move from her spot, and so Arya left her to trail after the others, who had already moved further into the room to follow Charles. When she reached them, the telepath was holding the lid of a metal crate open. The others stared into it, and Arya brushed past them to stand beside Charles. She groaned when she saw what was inside the box.

"Hank _has_ been busy," Erik stated, looking at her with an amused expression on his face.

She sighed. "Do we really have to wear these?"

Charles glanced at her, and Arya tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in her stomach. He seemed to notice her discomfort and looked away. He said, "As none of us mutated to endure extreme g-force or being riddled by bullets, I suggest we suit up."

Sean was the first to make a move, pulling out his suit from the crate. It was the second one that stood out, considering it was the only one with striped wings attached to it. Alex was next, following his friend's suit. His was the other one that stood out; it had a circular metal plate attached to the chest. Arya guessed by the looks of it that it was no longer a prototype.

Erik pulled a medium-sized one out and handed it to Raven before getting his own. Charles, being the gentleman that he was, pulled out a considerably small one compared to the others and handed it to Arya, smiling as he did so. She rolled her eyes and walked out, hoping that it wouldn't look _too_ ugly on her.

* * *

A scowl crept up her face as the men in the group stood in front of her and Raven, and stared. "You're enjoying this way too much," Arya muttered, pulling at the collar of her suit. The material was thick and way too coarse, but it was the only choice she had, apart from dresses and shorts.

"What?" Sean said defensively, though she could see the grin just itching to break out. "You two look… sexy," he finished with some trouble before breaking out into laughter. Alex followed him soon after, and they both stumbled away and out of the mansion, where the car was already waiting for them.

Arya grunted and threw an exasperated look at Raven. "_You_ look sexy! I do _not_ look sexy!"

Raven rolled her eyes, saying, "You look fine."

"I feel like a friggin' hobbit," Arya grumbled under her breath, her eyes trained as Raven walked outside with Erik trailing behind her. She made a move to follow them when a hand settled on her shoulder. She whipped around to find Charles hovering over her, his face lit up like the rests. She sighed. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"You look fine." He chuckled. Arya rolled her eyes, not believing him—that is, until he kissed her.

When he pulled away, she stared at him, dumbfounded. "What was that for?" she asked. "And are we gonna be a thing now? Because if we are—"

She stopped when he kissed her again. Once he pulled away the second time, she didn't say anything; though her eyes flit left and right to make sure everyone was outside and that no one was watching.

"Do you remember what I told you last night?" he asked, cupping her face in his hands. And though she nodded her head, he continued anyway, his voice barely a whisper. "I won't let anything happen to you." Then, "And yes, after all of this, we are indeed going to be _a thing_, if that's what you'd like to call it."

"Yes, I'd like that." Arya laughed at the way he said it, right before planting a kiss on his nose. She grinned. "We should go. The others are probably waiting for us."

"And should we go there together?" he asked, smirking. She chuckled, recalling that he'd said the exact same words before. But she didn't want a repeat.

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Yes."

* * *

Arya had never flown in an airplane before, let alone a jet, but there was a first time for everything. _And besides,_ she chided herself. _You'll get to come into the fray all badass like._ The jet—what Hank and Moira decided to call the "X-Jet"—looked rusted and old, but it might have been because she was staring at it from below. Maybe the top was different.

Her and her allies stood in a straight line beside it, and while most of them were still admiring it, Arya was confused as to where (or who) their pilot was. None of them knew how to fly a jet, as far as she knew. Erik maybe, but that was a big _maybe_. She eyed the man standing beside Raven, contemplating whether he could learn such a skill in Russia or not.

"Where's Hank?" Raven asked out of the blue. Arya scanned her eyes across their company and was ashamed that she hadn't noticed before. Where was their young scientist?

She detected the figure walking towards them only a few moments before anyone else did, also before he announced his presence. "I'm here," he said.

Beside her, Sean's jaw dropped. Charles stared at the man in front of them with narrowed eyes. "Hank?"

"It didn't attack the cells," the scientist explained. "It enhanced them. It didn't work."

_The serum._

The first thing Arya noticed was that his voice was lower. The second thing was the fact that he was blue. _He's blue,_ she kept telling herself, which sort of made sense considering he'd made the serum out of Raven's blood, and Raven was naturally blue as well. The third thing was that he was hairy; as in, monkey hairy.

She was wondering why that was when Raven spoke up. "Yes it did, Hank," she said, and all eyes turned to her. "Don't you see? This is who you were meant to be. This is _you_." She put her hand on Hank's (slightly larger) cheek. "No more hiding."

Arya had to give it to her; she'd really begun to accept the meaning of _mutant and proud_.

"Never looked better, man." She watched as Erik patted the young genius' arm and saw it before it even happened. By the time Hank had his hand wrapped around Erik's throat, Arya already had her gloves off.

"Hank," she said sternly, holding her hands out. The familiar grey vision came and her Third Eye grasped Hank's wrist.

He growled; his eyes still on Erik. "Don't mock me," he said.

"Hank, put him down immediately please," Charles said. Just then, Arya's mutation started working and the blueness and the fur on his wrist turned into pale flesh; it branched outward from there. Arya suspected that newfound strength was also part of the enhancement of his mutation, and she was right.

As soon as the furs on his hand disappeared, Erik was immediately able to push him away. Erik landed on his knees. He struggled to recover his breath, but when he did, he looked straight up into Hank's eyes and said, "I wasn't." He looked infuriated but kept his head down, and Arya praised him slightly for that.

"Even I gotta admit you look pretty badass," Alex blurted out. "I think I got a new name for you: Beast."

Hank's shoulders rose and Arya flexed her fingers, already having let go of his forearm but preparing for another breakout. It didn't come. Hank glanced at her for a moment, a rumble coming deep from his throat before he snarled. "I won't try it again," he said.

She dropped her hand, muttering, "Good." She had a feeling Beast-Hank wasn't going to be the same geeky teenager they once knew.

Beside her, Sean raised his chin. "You're sure you can fly this thing?" he asked, nodding at the X-Jet.

"Of course I can," Hank answered. "I designed it."

They then started filing into the jet. As soon as her feet touched the thin metal grates that were the floor, Arya knew that flying was not going to be a very good new experience for her. She settled into her seat and immediately buckled on her seatbelts, watching as the others did the same.

Across from her sat Charles, Raven, and Sean, and beside her were Erik and Alex. Moira sat at the back, sitting in front of some sort of device Arya didn't know the name to. Hank was up front, already clicking switches into place and checking everything.

Arya sank deeper into her seat, lacing her fingers together to try and stop them from shaking. She was a tad annoyed at Raven for leaving her to sit beside Erik. He hadn't said a word to her ever since the day before. Even when they were all making fun of how tiny Arya looked in her suit, he hadn't looked at her. Now, she had to keep her nerves down and pray he wouldn't notice.

She heard a particularly loud click coming from up front and the jet whirred to life. The floor beneath her feet started vibrating; it was subtle but Arya, in her anxious state, noticed. She bit the inside of her cheek and gripped the arm holders tightly, but as imperceptibly as she could.

Sadly, Erik was sitting beside her and it was impossible for him not to notice. He turned his head and looked at her, but she kept her head down and pretended not to notice that he was staring.

"Thank you," he said.

Arya sighed inwardly and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm sorry?" She wasn't really paying attention to what he'd said, as she was staring at a vague footprint of mud on the floor.

She turned her gaze to Erik and found him looking completely genuine. "Thank you," he repeated. "For making Hank drop me."

He lowered his voice at the second bit but she heard it all the same. And when she did, she looked back down to the floor again. "I did what was necessary. We shouldn't be fighting between ourselves anyway. It would ruin the whole thing."

"Since when did you start speaking so rationally?" he said, and Arya could hear the smirk in his tone.

She chuckled. "Since you told me I was practically _essential_ to stopping Shaw." She bit her tongue, almost saying _killing Shaw_. It would have just reminded Erik of the whole spat, but she doubted he had forgotten anyway.

When she noticed that he'd gone quiet, she turned to look at him again, and found that he was still staring, but with what looked to be approval on his face. "You may survive this yet," he said, nodding, before finally looking away and calling out something to Hank.

Arya didn't understand what he said. She'd already turned away and looked to Charles, who was grinning like a fool on his seat. "We may survive this yet," he repeated, and she took note of the little change he made, appreciating it with all her heart but thinking that it hadn't been necessary.

_We _will_ survive this._

That didn't make the rest of the trip any less uncomfortable.

* * *

**make sure to leave a review! First Class is coming to a close! LEAVE ME SOMETHING TO HOLD ON TO.**


	18. Chapter 18 - Into The Fray (Part 2)

**Chapter 17 (PART 2)**

By the time they reached their destination near Cuba, Arya was all ready to hurl. Earlier, she had assumed that the ill feeling would go away if she'd forced herself to get used to the constantly shifting ground and the fact that they were high above land, but she was wrong. The urgency to barf out the little she'd ate that morning didn't go away; when Hank called out to his passengers, telling them that they were nearing the location, it only got worse. Her hand was clutching her stomach, practically holding the bile inside. Across her, Charles threw her a reassuring smile. She scowled.

"It looks pretty messy out there," Hank remarked from the front. Arya decided against looking out the window, knowing it would be a bad idea considering her condition.

Sean did, though. "Damn right," he said, whistling.

"Is the ship still going for the embargo line?" Arya asked.

"Yep. It doesn't look to be turning around any time soon either."

She cursed under her breath. Beside her, she noticed Erik nod subtly to Charles, who seemed to understand as quickly as Arya did. He put two fingers to his temple and closed his eyes. Almost immediately, his body went rigid. Arya watched on, holding her breath.

It was barely a minute when his eyes flew open again. "The crew of the Aral Sea are all dead. Shaw's been there."

As much as she wanted to know how he found out—and why his face was contorted in pain when he opened his eyes again—she kept her mouth shut and waited for orders. _A soldier needs orders._

"He's still here," Erik insisted. "Somewhere."

"He set the ship on course for the embargo line," Charles said.

Moira spoke up from the back. "If that ship crosses the line, our boys are going to blow it up. And the war begins."

Arya threw her a look that must have said something around the lines of "Thank you, Captain Obvious", and though they had barely talked over the last few days, the CIA agent smirked. _At least I can get a job as the grand optimist._

"Unless they're _not_ our boys," Charles stated, ever so cryptically. Erik seemed to be the only one who understood, for he pushed himself farther up in his seat. After a while of hard thinking and migraines, Arya finally caught up. At least, she thought she did. Charles nodded at her, and she nodded back with a tad bit more uncertainty. She gripped the metal arm holders tight and watched as he brought his fingers to his temple and closed his eyes once more.

It wasn't long after that before there was a soft beeping sound coming from up front. Hank grunting in exertion was the only warning they got before the plane started maneuvering. Hank made it go into a tailspin, and before they knew it they were upside down.

_I'm never flying again._ Arya closed her eyes tight and set her jaw, gripping the arm rests tight. Around her, she could hear a lot of noises; Raven screaming and Charles yelling at them to "hold on" were two better examples. Arya groaned to herself as she felt the bile come up.

From the front, Hank let out a loud roar.

_We're upside down._ She kept thinking this to herself, and for a while it worked. She swallowed the bile back down (which was disgusting but she did it anyway) and stomped her foot repeatedly on the floor. It helped remove the light feeling in her stomach. Vaguely, she could feel two arms pressing against her torso and could only assume that it was Erik and Alex trying to keep her on her seat.

She heard a thundering _boom_, and knew that it hadn't come from inside the jet. After what seemed like a millennia, Hank was finally able to level the plane. Arya swallowed a huge wad of spit to make sure that the puke wasn't there before opening her eyes. The others were flustered, but otherwise looked no worse for wear. Something in her told her that her face was paler than any of theirs.

Hank's head poked out from the cockpit. "A little warning next time, professor?" he said.

"Sorry about that," Charles replied, originally looking to Beast but then his eyes settled on Arya. "You alright?"

She glared at him and shook her head. "Son of a bitch," she mumbled, throwing her head back and letting it hit the headrest with a loud _thud_.

"That was inspired, Charles," Moira piped up from the back, and Arya might have noticed a hint of admiration in her voice. For a moment, she glared at her too before gaining enough self-respect to stop. _She's just a CIA agent. You're not supposed to be jealous._

At least, not yet.

Charles frowned. "Thank you very much, but I still can't locate Shaw." Arya was thankful for the bluntness in his voice, but she knew that they had to keep focused.

_Stop Shaw first, love lives second._

She exhaled deeply and gathered her thoughts, turning her head when Erik spoke. "He's down there. We need to find him now!" he said, ever so assertive.

"We know that." Arya's brows furrowed. "Hank?" she called.

His head once again poked out of the cockpit, and his gaze immediately fell on Moira. "Is there anything unusual on the radar or scanners?" he asked her.

Five clicks later, she answered. "No. Nothing." Charles shook his head as well.

"Well, then he must be underwater," Hank stated. "And obviously we don't have sonar."

It seemed odd that all three practically trained-for-this people were stumped, and that Arya was the one who brightened up with an idea. "Yes, we do," she said, perking up. Everyone looked at her with wide eyes, obviously waiting for her to explain. She looked to Sean and raised her eyebrows, a smile already quirking up the corners of her lips.

He caught up in a matter of milliseconds. With that signature prideful gleam in his eye, he hastily unbuckled himself from his seat. Charles and Erik followed suit, trailing him to the bomb bay doors. When the latter passed her by, he patted her arm.

"Brilliant idea, Arya," Erik said. She shrugged, taking it as a compliment and watching them as they made their way to the back.

The plane kept rocking, and it had tilted to the side. Arya didn't know when that happened, or when the skies suddenly became rocky, but she was thankful that she hadn't noticed and took it as a good sign. "Hank, level the plane," she yelled, seeing the trouble the three were going through just to get to the doors. She heard another grunt of effort from the front, but soon enough the plane was levelled.

Sean nodded at her appreciatively and she gave him a thumb's up. "Good luck!" Her stomach dropped when he wobbled slightly on his feet, and a thought suddenly occurred to her; that maybe he had drank too much than he should have the previous night. He looked considerably drunk, and his eyes were slightly bloodshot.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you drunk?!"

He merely grinned, and then pointed an accusing finger at Erik, who had almost reached them. "Whoa!" Sean exclaimed. "You back right off."

Arya couldn't help but to snicker as Erik held his hands up in accommodation to Sean's demand. "Beast, open the bomb bay doors!" Sean yelled. At the back of her mind, she told herself that maybe she should call everyone by their codenames. The time had finally come for them to be used. But then, she realized that she didn't really _have_ a codename. No one had thought of one for her and she wasn't very creative as to think of one for herself.

She sighed and let it be, watching the bomb bay doors open. A huge gust of air rushed into the plane and her ears popped. Meanwhile, Sean was standing over the latch as Charles surveyed his last instructions to him.

The telepath was yelling over the loud rush of the wind. "Remember!" He grabbed Sean's throat. "This is a muscle! You control it!" He then pointed at his temple. "You'll be in here the entire time! We'll see you soon!"

Charles suddenly let go of the young mutant and Sean wobbled on his one foot before regaining his balance. _Yep. Definitely drunk._

"On my mark!" said Charles, his hands now on Sean's back. "Three. Two. One. Go!"

He pushed him out of the doors, and Sean let out a giddy "WHOO!" as he fell. Arya craned her neck from her seat and was barely able to see him spread his wings. He screeched in perfect timing, just before the water took him. His form flew out of sight, and Arya settled back into her seat, smirking. _Okay, maybe he's just a _little _drunk._

"Alert the fleet," Moira said, talking into a walkie-talkie. "They might want to take their cans off." Arya assumed that she was talking to Sean, but that didn't really make any sense, so she put the thought to rest. They had other problems.

Charles suddenly perked up from his spot by the bomb bay doors (which were then closed). "Banshee has got a location on Shaw," he said, his two fingers still resting on his temples.

_Thank God for telepaths,_ Arya thought to herself. But then he was unbuckling her seatbelts for her and pulling her to Erik, who was standing over the bomb bay doors just as Sean was.

"What are we doing?" she asked, laughing nervously.

"You and Erik are going to lift the submarine out of the water," Charles answered, positioning her beside Erik.

She stood as stiff as a statue. "A _submarine_?"

The telepath nodded. "It'll be quicker with your help."

"He was able to move a friggin' _satellite_ on his own! Why would he need me?!" Just then, the doors opened again and Arya was looking down at the blue waters beneath them. She stared, panicked, at the undercarriage, knowing that that was all they had to hold onto. Charles looked at her with worried eyes, while Erik had his eyebrow up.

"_Up for the challenge?"_ he seemed to be asking.

Arya wrung her hands, but nodded, mostly trying to convince herself. She took a deep breath. _I can do this._ She raised her head, met Charles' eyes, and nodded. He nodded back, and soon enough, she and Erik were lowering themselves down the undercarriage.

As soon as they were in position—but not comfortable—Erik held a hand out, palm facing the water, scanning it for the large metal piece that was sure to be down there. Arya had already pulled her gloves off. His hand was holding onto the metal of the undercarriage so he wouldn't fall, and hers was latching onto his for dear life—and also because she needed to.

He found it in less than a minute, and it was obvious when he did. His hand stiffened, and his eyes were trained at one spot below them, unmoving. Arya immediately started using his mutation, her hand trained on that one spot as well. As soon as she found it, she imagined her hand gripping the metal tight and raising it out of the water.

Her breaths came out in short puffs only a few moments later. She struggled to bring it up, and beside her, Erik seemed to be too. At least he had the experience. Arya had never tried borrowing his powers on something so big and heavy before. She squeezed his hand as both of them grunted in exertion, the weight obviously too much for both of them.

Suddenly, Charles was talking in her head. She looked up and found his eyes trained on only Erik, but she suspected that she and the metal-moving mutant's minds were connected in some way. She listened in on what the professor had to offer.

_"Remember: the point between rage, and serenity."_ That was all he said.

Arya tried to do what he said—or what he hinted at, at least—but she honestly had no idea what he was talking about. Erik, however, did. She felt something change in the course of his power's flow. And so she kept doing what she was doing, knowing that she was helping even a little bit.

Sooner than they realized, the submarine could be seen through the water. And eventually it was floating in the air, water dripping off its metal-hinged glory. The engines were still turning, and Arya kept her eyes on those, pulling them up, up, up.

Then their plane started moving again, and it was all she could do to not completely let go of her grip on the back of Erik's hand. She almost slipped, but she held fast. She saw Erik flinch, but otherwise keep his eyes on the submarine.

Her stomach dropped when a latch opened from the top of the submarine. A familiar face from the past stepped out; the mutant in the grey suit. She briefly remembered Erik telling her that his name was Riptide before her instincts kicked in, and she knew what to do.

"Erik?" she managed to say, practically grunting out the word. He acknowledged her with a raise of his chin. His eyes were on the enemy mutant as well. "I'm going to have to let go now."

Without waiting for an answer, she moved her hand away from his and instead grabbed for the metal. Immediately afterwards, her other hand moved to point at Riptide. Her vision turned partly grey, and she found pulsing white lights—the place where his mutation was strongest—on his hands. She had never trained with her target so far away, but she had to try. Otherwise, he was going to start throwing tornadoes.

Arya closed her eyes, letting the grey tinge engulf her vision before willing her invisible hands forward. The tendrils moved like lightning, but the distance made it all the more harder for her. Meanwhile, Riptide was already twirling his fingers. Wind started gathering around him and Arya willed the tendrils to go faster.

They did, and before either of them knew it, his powers had been stopped.

"Pull off," she said through gritted teeth. When no reply came, she lost her nerve. "PULL OFF NOW, BEAST!" She winced when the plane shot off, heading straight for an island. Arya decided to call it Cuba as she couldn't think of anything else. Beneath them, Riptide struggled to get his powers in check, and Arya allowed herself a small smirk.

Then she slipped.

Figuratively, not literally. She lost her grip on his mutation and a tornado was starting in his hands again. Even from afar, she could see the grin on his face. Erik was having problems of his own, keeping the submarine aloft in such a high speed.

Above them, Charles was shouting. "Erik, take my hand!"

It was then that Hank chose the perfect time to start maneuvering. The plane practically tilted sideward and Erik let the submarine go, his hand flying to grip the metal of the undercarriage. "Arya!" he yelled. She kept her hand trained on Riptide.

Below them, the submarine crashed just on the shore off the island Cuba.

Arya cried out in frustration and the tendrils moved forward again, catching Riptide's mutation once more. The heavy winds slowed, but then Erik grabbed her hand. He pulled her back up into the jet and she collapsed onto the floor. She was breathing heavily, and Charles was kneeling over her in worry; she could deduct that much through her blurry vision. Something warm and wet trickled out her nose, and she brought a finger to it. It came back out red with blood.

That was when the plane hit the ground. Through her bleary eyes, Arya saw Charles thrown backwards by the momentum of the crash. Erik seemed to fly out from behind her and he fell on top of the telepath, holding his hands on either side of his body.

For some reason, they weren't thrown around like ragdolls.

Arya, however, had enough sense in her to curl herself around a metal railing for dear survival. In some ways, it was enough, but in others, it wasn't. As the plane toppled over like a bottle on a bumpy floor, she kept her grip on the railing as tight as she could. Her head was still thrown from side to side as the motion of the crash had enough in it to do that.

She barely noticed it when the plane stopped spinning, because her head still was. Her vision had improved a bit, and she only let go of the railing when she saw that Charles and Erik were on their feet once again.

Bad idea.

Apparently, the plane was upside down. And while the railing would have originally been closer to the floor, it wasn't that time. That time, the railing was on the roof. Arya fell from the roof and landed hard onto the uneven the metal "floor" below. Her ears were ringing, and she didn't know why.

It was all she could do to flip herself over. She could feel hands on her. Charles was standing over her, and after a while, Erik as well. Their mouths were moving but she couldn't understand what they were saying. "What?" she tried to ask, but she was vaguely aware that only the vowel came out.

The ringing faded ever so slowly, and she started recognizing what they were trying to say. "—close your eyes, alright?" Charles was saying. "We're going to fix you up."

"Okay…" She let her eyes droop ever so slightly before someone started shaking her. Her eyelids flew open to find Charles looking very frightened.

"Arya!" he yelled. "Don't close your eyes!"

Arya tried answering but only a faint murmur escaped her lips. _Don't close your eyes,_ she kept telling herself, focusing every fiber in her body on that single thought. She could feel the pain _everywhere_; her neck, her arms and legs, but mostly somewhere around her chest. It was where the agony branched out from.

Charles had gone away for reasons she couldn't concentrate enough to think about, replaced by Erik, with Raven behind him. His lips were moving again and Arya focused on her hearing. "—sorry, Arya. I tried as best as I could do keep you on the ground, but the plane had already…"

She wasn't sure if he was the one who'd trailed off, or her mind couldn't concentrate on his voice anymore. Nevertheless, she nodded her head once and said, "S'okay." At least she'd been able to say it.

Raven knelt beside Arya and placed her head onto her lap. Her lips were moving too but Arya didn't have the strength to try to understand anymore. After what seemed like hours—but was only a few seconds—Charles came back and was standing over her again.

He was saying something to her. Holding back a groan, she tried to calm her mind and focused on what he was saying.

"—up, Arya."

She closed her eyes tight and shook her head, feeling the tears well up as the pain in her sternum worsened. Without warning, hands lifted her up off the floor and straightened her into a sitting position. She was lucky that the jet was small and that they didn't have to drag her to a wall.

They propped her up against a divider, right beside the gaping hole in the plane. Sand and water was right outside, and Arya could have imagined that they had flown out all the way back to Carlsbad.

* * *

**~make sure to leave a review! First Class is coming to a close! LEAVE ME SOMETHING TO HOLD ON TO.~**


	19. Chapter 19 - Eden

**Aaaand here is the last part of the final battle. ^^ but, like the saint i am, i wrote an epilogue... and what a short epilogue it will be AHAHAH**

**but i know you guys will still read it, you lovely little thing you~~**

**I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 18**

Charles was kneeling beside her, holding something to her chest that felt cold. _Must be ice._ She didn't want to think about where it'd come from. His lips were moving again, but he didn't seem to be talking to her. Arya assumed that he was either explaining the situation, or giving orders.

At least she could gather her thoughts already.

Some feeling crawled back into her arms and she brought her hand up to grip Charles' wrist. His head snapped to look at her, and he could see that he was clearly worried. She offered him a faint smile, though it might have turned out to be a grimace. Nonetheless, she weakly pushed his hand away and held the ice to her chest. The pain dulled.

Charles kissed her forehead before standing up, immediately coming into a heated banter with the others. Arya closed her eyes and tried to ignore the pain, instead concentration on what they were all saying.

"—the teleporter's mind." _Charles._ "Shaw is drawing all the power out of his sub. He's turning himself into some kind of nuclear bomb."

"We got no time." _Moira._ "The Geiger count's going out of control." Arya didn't even try and think about what that meant.

"Alright, Moira, this is what we're going to do." _Charles._ "Get on the radio and tell them to clear _both_ fleets out immediately."

"I'm going in!" _Erik._ She was barely able to tell apart his voice from the professor's, but to her own surprise, she did.

"Beast, Havok, back him up!" _Charles._ "Erik, I can guide you through once you're in, but I _need_ you to shut down whatever it is that's blocking me, then we just hope to God that it's not too late for me to stop him."

"Got it."

"Good luck."

She noticed several people jump over her legs. One patted her shoulder and said, "You'll get through, Arya." It must have been Alex.

Then there was a light scuffling to her left. "Raven, stop!"

"I'm going to help them!"

"We don't have time for this. If anything comes near Arya and that entrance, you're taking care of it, yes?"

"Fine."

Arya's heart faltered slightly when pain flared up from her chest. She lightened the pressure on her injury, only managing a faint whimpering. Raven had gone to stand guard on the beach, but even before that, Arya could hear the noise of mutants fighting. Her stomach dropped when the noise disappeared altogether. _Azazel._ Where were her friends now?

Charles came to squat beside her, blocking her view from the beach. He used his one hand to grip hers while the other he used to place his two middle fingers on his temples, guiding Erik.

He didn't talk to her, too busy in instructing Erik, but she was thankful for him squeezing her hand from time to time. It reminded her not to close her eyes. Some of the ache from her limbs had gone away, and the ice helped numb the pain in her sternum.

"Erik, make for the middle of the vessel," Charles blurted out. "That's the point my mind can't penetrate. We _have_ to assume that that's where Shaw is."

She'd tried poking where the supposed injury was (she didn't even know _what_ her injury was), but immediately regretted it soon after.

Her telepath spoke again. "That's the nuclear reactor. Disable it." He squeezed her hand again and she nodded, gripping the ice tight. She still hadn't put her gloves back on, and her fingers had started to go numb. It wasn't an awful experience, really.

"Erik, you're there. You've reached the void."

Arya looked up, her eyes widening. Had they found him?

"What? He's got to be there. He has to be! There's nowhere else he can be. Keep looking!"

Her heart dropped and she gulped down the growing lump in her throat. "He's not there…" she whispered to herself. She noticed that her mouth was parched and stared over Charles' shoulder, taking in the salty scent of the ocean. _Home._

For a moment, she felt calm; peaceful, even. But then Charles' grip loosened on her hand she looked up to see the confused look on his face.

"Erik? Erik!"

"Where is he?" Arya croaked, panicking as well.

Charles frowned before letting go of her hand completely. He said, "He's gone."

"What?" Moira asked. She was the only one left with them in the destroyed plane. Truthfully, if Arya had had the strength to argue, she would have had Raven stay inside and Moira stand guard outside.

"He's gone into the void!" Charles answered, somewhat impatient. "I can't communicate with him there."

Arya winced at the loudness of his voice. For some reason, her ears were still sensitive. And when he yelled, a migraine erupted from the back of her head. She groaned, banging her head against the wall. Charles stopped her after the third hit, looking at her apologetically. Vaguely, she could feel tears rolling down her cheeks. Could splitting headaches do that?

Outside, there was the sound of people hitting the sand, followed by muffled grunts. Raven bolted from her spot, running for the shore. Arya couldn't see who had landed but she hoped they were allies.

Then Charles perked up on his spot. "He's back!" _Thank God._ "Erik, whatever you're doing, keep doing it. It's starting to work."

Arya sat up straighter and winced, waiting for the overwhelming pain to hit her bloody. But nothing came, and she grinned. When she pulled herself onto her feet—with some help from Charles—newly-found energy rippled through her limbs, and she thought that she'd never felt so alive.

"It's working," Charles said, but she didn't know if he was talking to her or to Erik. Possibly both. "I'm starting to see him, but I can't yet touch his mind."

There came a fluttering sound from the beach, followed by a loud yell and the sound of fire catching. Arya rushed out to see what was happening, but a thought occurred to her. She turned around and pulled Charles in for a kiss, _and then_ rushed onto the beach. The sound of his very giddy laughter followed her.

The first thing she noticed was Hank lying on his back, with Azazel pinning him down, his pointed tail hovering over Hank's face.

Her instincts kicked in and she reached for the red mutant's power, finding it in the middle of his chest—the same place Alex's was. Arya held fast and imagined herself standing behind him. Her stomach lightened up before she appeared behind Azazel. She grabbed his tail and twisted it, before wrapping her forearm around his neck in a wrestler's hold.

He struggled against her grip for a moment before he pushed his elbow back, hitting her in the stomach. Arya wheezed, letting go of him. The pain in her sternum flared back into existence. Azazel grabbed her by the throat and threw her across the beach.

As she was pulling herself back onto her feet, ignoring the pain, Shaw—the very _least_ person she expected to find—stepped onto the beach.

"Stop, Azazel." Shaw inclined his head expectantly. Azazel shoved himself off of Hank and stood up, his tail whipping back and forth.

Arya scowled, raising her hand and gripping his power tight. "BEAST!" Just as the color on the Azazel's arms started turning normal, Hank sunk his claws into the red mutant's arm and threw him.

Azazel tried to teleport—Arya could see that when his mutation pulsed quicker, but it didn't work. He hit the metal wall of their destroyed submarine before landing on the sand with a soft thud, apparently hitting his head as well.

He was out cold, but that wouldn't last for long, and Arya was just thinking of a way to keep him in one place when Shaw turned into Raven; or, more likely, Raven turned back into herself. She smiled at Hank, before throwing a grin at Arya. "You all better?" she asked.

_Not really._ "Yeah," Arya answered, subtly supporting her side with her hand.

That was when she heard someone screaming; a man, to be exact. She looked to Hank first but found him just as confused as she was. _Charles._ In an instant, she had already latched onto Azazel's mutation and, using it for her own, she teleported back into the X-Jet.

Charles was standing in the middle of the destroyed interior, two fingers on his temple, yelling his lungs out. In an instant, Arya had his mutation stopped in its tracks. But for an agonizing moment, she felt what he was feeling—and it was ten times worse than one of her migraines.

It had gone as quickly as it came and she was soon standing in front of her telepath—_her_ telepath—holding his face in her hands. "Hey," she crooned. "You okay?" He nodded his head, gripping her hands in his. She could see his eyes brimming with tears, though she had a feeling that they weren't his own. "What happened?"

He didn't answer, that time, but instead looked past her and out onto the beach. He walked past her, still holding her hand so that she was forced to follow him. She was thankful that she did.

A man appeared out of the submarine, floating in mid-air. His arms were held out to his sides the way a crucified man's would. Arya's breath hitched in her throat when she saw that the man was Shaw. From afar, she could see the blood trailing down from a single cut on his forehead. She looked to Charles, her stomach rolling when she realized what had happened just seconds before.

"Today, our fighting stops!" Erik's voice echoed all throughout the beach. He trailed behind Shaw, just before he let the man fall to the ground. From their height, he landed on the sand with a crack that made Arya wince.

The others had gathered around the scene as well, even their enemies, though they looked as shocked as everyone else.

Erik levitated himself down to the ground. "Take off your blinders, brothers and sisters. The real enemy is out there," he said, pointing to the fleets still out on the ocean. Arya couldn't help but to wonder when he started seeing her and the other mutants as his family.

"I feel their guns moving in the water," he continued, walking closer to the company, and to her and Charles and Moira. "Their metal targeting us. Americans, Soviets, _humans_; united in their fear of the unknown. The Neanderthal is running scared, my fellow mutants!" Charles followed Erik's footsteps, walking a few feet beside him.

Arya stilled when Erik's gaze fell on her. "Go ahead, Arya. Tell me I'm wrong," he said. She frowned, but nonetheless held her hand out to him, reaching for his power. When she had it in her grasp, a sob died in her throat as she felt that their missiles were indeed pointed at them. She didn't need to relay it to Moira. She could feel Charles in her mind, and she was certain that he'd seen it as well. She glanced at him, and when she saw him purse his lips, her heart faltered. What were they going to do?

Moira ran back into the plane, and they could hear her desperate pleads from afar, as though she thought the volume of her voice would somehow be heard by the fleets that were ready to kill them.

The fleets started firing seconds afterwards. Arya saw the missiles launched into the air, smoke trailing behind them. They flew towards the beach in ample speed, and they would reach it in but a minute, possibly less.

Behind her, Sean stumbled backwards, Raven shook in fear, and Alex stared up at the missiles. Arya was praying that he somehow had the power to stop them, but the only one who did was Erik. She swiveled towards him, already starting to reach into his mind for his mutation. The helmet wasn't enough to keep her back; her desperation gave her enough power to crawl into his mind from the nape of his neck.

She had only but touched his power when he threw his hand up.

The missiles stopped. They floated in place, only a few dozen feet away from the beach. Arya held her breath as Erik held them there, making it look easy when she knew that it really wasn't. There were about a hundred missiles, all of them clearly weighing a ton. She turned her head and looked at Erik, dumbfounded. How had he become so powerful?

The professor's words echoed in her mind from when they'd tried to lift the submarine out of the water. _"The point between rage, and serenity…"_ She knew very little about Erik's past, but it was obvious that he had enough of both.

Charles exhaled deeply beside her and she looked to see a smile break through his face before turning serious again. He was clearly proud. Hell, all of them were amazed. _But what now?_ she thought.

Her question was answered when Erik turned the missiles away from them, pointing them back towards the fleets. She took a startled step back.

"Erik, you said it yourself. We're the better men," Charles said, keeping the desperate tone out of his voice when it was clear on his face. "This is the time to prove it." The missiles kept turning around until all of them were facing the sea. "There are thousands of men on those ships. Good, honest, _innocent_ men!" Charles pleaded. "They're just following orders."

Arya saw all hint of emotion drain out of Erik's face, leaving only one: hatred. "I've been at the mercy of men just following orders," he said, glaring at Charles. "Never again." He threw his arm out, and the missiles flew the other way.

Charles yelled at Erik to release them, but it wouldn't have worked. Erik was far too angry. So, Arya did the only thing she could think of.

She closed her eyes, latching onto his mutation. Almost immediately, she felt him pushing the missiles forward. She brought her other hand up and gripped the projectiles tight. Erik was stronger than her, _very_ much so. But with all her willpower, she told them to go down.

And some did. Some simply stopped and started falling out of the sky. Arya pushed these downwards, making them fall into the water. While she was holding the projectiles back, Erik was pushing them forward. His strength surpassed hers extremely. The weight of his power pushed her to her knees. She was barely holding her arms up. She winced, but nevertheless more of the missiles fell into the ocean. Yet there were still a couple dozen more, and they were already so close to the fleets.

Just then, Charles yelled for Erik to stop again before tackling him. The missiles stopped their flight and started falling. Arya collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. Her cheek was on the sand and she watched as Erik elbowed Charles. To their side, the others, her friends, started towards the two but Erik threw them back, leaving only Raven standing.

"Charles, that's enough!" He pinned him to the ground and held his hand out once more. The missiles that hadn't imploded continued on their way to the fleets; Arya tried to stop them again, but Erik's power forced her to the ground. "I don't want to hurt you, Arya," she heard him yell.

Charles grabbed Erik's face, and Arya could feel him trying to infiltrate his mind. "Erik, stop!"

That was when Erik tore his concentration away from the missiles. Arya noticed this one little detail. He pushed his hand away and punched Charles in the face.

_I can't._ Arya struggled to her knees, holding both hands out. Her vision was going blurry and her mind felt like it was being torn into two. _I can't let them die._ Something in her knew that Erik was right, that humans were going to—someday—try and kill all of them. Some of them had already tried killing _her_. But that day still hadn't come yet.

A line Chloe had told her before their championship—the championship that had only taken place several days before—echoed in her mind. _"Keep your eyes on the prize, Arya."_

Taking it literally had never helped her, but Arya knew what her friend meant.

Erik's power flowed into her mind and she gripped the missiles tight. Without him pushing her back, it was easier. But she was exhausted, and it was painful for her.

_Eyes on the prize._

Arya closed her eyes tight, keeping those words in her head, and with a defiant cry, she pushed the remaining missiles down into the ocean. All of them made it; some of them exploded on their way, some while in the water, but Arya had pushed them deeper in than she realized. There was no sign of them exploding aside from considerably larger waves making it onto the shore.

Once all of them were gone, Arya fell back onto the sand.

Her head throbbed, her chest felt like it was on fire; for some reason, her palms itched. But she'd prevented the deaths of approximately a thousand or so people on those ships, and she took pride in that. To her left, Erik yelled in anger. Anger at her, obviously. Through hazy eyes, she saw him step off of Charles and make his way towards her. The blazing fire behind his eyes was deplorable, but she managed a smile.

Then something flew into his helmet. It bounced off, but it was followed by another, and another, and another. _Gunshots,_ Arya thought to herself, her eyelids sliding closed.

The last thing she heard was an eerily familiar voice screaming, before the darkness took her.

* * *

**[evil laughter]**

**WAIT FOR THE EPILOGUE! I'll put it up as soon as I can - not seven days after this one, considering it's just gonna be hella short, an epilogue and some reminders from me.**

**P.S. I might have added a little-something-more to Arya's mutation, but it will be very subtle and won't do much for the story... yet. ;)**

**Review if you think you know what it is! **


	20. Epilogue (End of Breach)

**AAAAND I PRESENT TO YOU: this short-ass epilogue that does not really build any tension that will build onwards into the sequel! :D**

**I still hope you guys enjoy though. Truly. And the sequel will come up in a few weeks or so, but I predict that I-ll update slower with that, because I am very quickly catching up to the end, and Apocalypse isnt even out yet! (P.S. just how excited are you for Apocalypse. my answer to that would be HELLA.)**

**so yeah, sequel updates will be slow. as soon as i get to download Apocalypse into my laptop/USB, i-ll write with the third installment of this series. IMMEDIATELY.**

**but you guys don-t have to worry about that yet. chill, read the epilogue, and maybe reread this whole story a few more times HAHAHA**

**nah, just kiddin. Without further ado, here is the final chapter of Breach. :)**

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

Arya smiled, sighing in contentment. "I like you in a wheelchair. I'm finally taller than you."

"I guess Erik beat you to the punch then." Charles chuckled.

She frowned and stopped walking, abruptly pulling him to a stop. "I take offense in that. I really do." She spun his chair around so that he was facing her, and she crouched, leaning against his arm rests so that they were eye to eye. He looked amused, but she was dead serious. "You _know_ that I hate him for doing this to you."

His smirk disappeared, and she once again had the pleasure of watching him turn from a cheeky college graduate to a professional adult—and boyfriend. "And _you_ know that I don't blame you for what happened. You did all you could. You saved hundreds of men in those ships." He took her face in his hands and looked at her with caring eyes. "You prevented the war."

"More like delayed it," Arya grumbled, looking down at herself. It was only when he raised her chin up with his two fingers that she met his eyes.

"You did the country a favor," he said, smiling. "How many husbands and sons do you think were able to go back home because of you?"

She laughed lightly. "A lot, I'd imagine."

"Exactly."

"You never fail to make me feel better."

"It's what I'm here for."

After placing a chaste kiss on his lips, she turned his wheelchair back on track and they started walking again. It was true, what she said. He never failed to make her feel better; he'd done it before, and Arya was sure that he'd do it again, countless more times.

"Besides, we all know it was Moira who started the shooting."

"You just won't let that go, will you?" Charles said, chuckling softly.

"What? I kind of have the right since she'd been flirting with you for practically the whole ride out to Cuba."

"I didn't notice."

"Men never notice."

"I take offense in that," he said, mocking Arya's voice. "I really do."

"That was the first time I ever heard you sound utterly stupid."

His laughter echoed throughout the garden. It was midday, and the sunlight streamed through the trees just a few yards away, though it was hard to bask in the warmth with the mansion towering over them.

Arya stared up at it, still making sure that they were on the path. She asked, "So how many students are you gonna take in again? Once you get the school running, I mean."

Charles shrugged. "As many as we can manage, I suppose."

She stopped walking again. "There it is…" she muttered to herself, laughing humorlessly. _We._ "You know," she suddenly blurted out. "One day, the government is going to realize how lucky they were to have Professor X on their side."

It was the first time she'd called him by that codename, and it seemed to fit him perfectly. He laughed, saying, "I suppose I am a real professor now, aren't I? Next thing you know, I'll be going bald..." Arya guffawed, imagining it. _A shiny bald head on my telepath…_ She snickered to herself, walking until they were directly in front of the mansion.

"And we are _still_ on the government's side, Arya," Charles stated. "We're still G-men… just, without the G."

She had to grab onto the handholds of his wheelchair for support because her idea was so brilliant. Beaming, she rushed around his chair and grabbed his arm holds. "We're X-men!" she exclaimed. "It's perfect!"

Charles scoffed at first, but then soon started chuckling. "X-men… I like the sound of that."

Arya grinned. "You're welcome."

They started walking again, Arya playing with the idea in her mind. It really was perfect.

"You know, a school needs its teachers," Charles piped up.

"I know."

"Hank would be perfect."

"Yep. Alex?"

"Maybe."

"How about Sean?"

"Absolutely not," Charles said. "However, I was rather hoping you would be part of my faculty as well."

Arya laughed out loud. "_Me_? I'd be teaching your students how to swear and hit a ball than be teaching them about physics and mutations. No, your school's better off having me as a guidance counsellor, Charles."

"Yes, I suppose so." He chuckled to himself. "It'd be a grueling job for us, don't you think?"

"It will be."

Then a memory of Chloe flashed across her mind. Arya froze. It was completely out of the blue, and yet at the same time it wasn't. Did she really want to stay here? Did she really want to teach in a school? Or did she want to go back to her home by the beach, where the sun was warm and the sand was soft, and no traces of danger ever lurked about except for drunken men and horny teenagers?

She looked down at the man in the wheelchair in front of her, and coldness gripped her heart. _Would I really leave him?_

"Arya?" It seemed as though he had read her mind, but he really hadn't. He just knew everything about her. He knew what she was thinking, and he didn't even need to read her mind. She dropped her hands and he rolled his wheelchair away, only far enough so he could turn himself back around.

He stared up at her. "Arya, you know you don't have to stay."

She sighed and squatted down again so that they could look at each other with ease. "You can't say that to me, Charles. Not to _me_." She gripped his hand tightly in hers, squeezing it. "You know I'd never leave you alone."

"But I know you want to."

"I don't know what I want," she said, shaking her head.

Charles placed his other hand on top of hers, running circles over her knuckle with his thumb. She loved it when he did that. "Carlsbad is your home, Arya," he said. "Playing volleyball on the beach, lying in the sand, drinking with your friend Chloe." She frowned, trying to recall how long it'd been since she'd seen her bubbly buddy. The telepath—_her_ telepath noticed this, and it was his turn to hold her face in his hands.

He said, "I won't be the one to keep you from going back, from being happy."

"I _am_ happy," Arya insisted. "With _you_." Tears were brimming in the corners of her eyes and all she wanted to do was to keep them back. She sniffled. "I just… I miss her."

"I know you do."

He brushed away a stray tear, and that only made it worse. She knew he hated seeing her like this. "And I know that you miss Raven too, and I feel so selfish for crying right now!" She released a breathy laugh as the sniffles soon turned into sobs and she kept her gaze up at the sky so that the tears wouldn't fall.

That was when he placed his forehead against hers; it was what he always did. "I do miss Raven," he said. "But going with Erik was _her_ choice. I just want you to make your own."

For a long moment, Arya closed her eyes tight and listened to him. He was right; he seldom was ever wrong. She had to make her own choices, not keep breaking down in his arms. She took a deep breath, forcing the tears back and gathering her thoughts.

When the tears had subsided, she met his gaze. "I'm not leaving you," she said, shaking her head slightly. "That's my final answer. I'll stay here with you, teach your students, and _be_ with you. I'll visit Chloe whenever I can, but when I'm not there, I'll be here." She gathered his hands into her own and kissed each one softly. "I'm _not_ leaving you."

The corner of his lips tilted up slightly as Charles mirrored her actions. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"You're _absolutely_ sure?" he repeated, squeezing her hands.

Arya leaned into him, and kissed his lips tenderly. When she pulled away, she waited for the light feeling in her stomach to die down before saying, "I'm absolutely sure."

_I'm absolutely sure,_ she told herself, finally believing it. She watched as his face lit up and he leaned in for another kiss.

But then the doors to the mansion burst open, revealing two smug young mutants.

"What the—" Before she could finish, Sean wrapped his arms around Arya's waist and pulled her away from Charles, squeezing her in a tight hug. She yelped, pushing her hands over his shoulders for support. "SEAN!"

"Thanks for deciding to stay!" he yelled, squeezing her tighter.

"Wha—_you two were listening_?!"

In front of them, Alex patted an exasperated Charles' shoulder, beaming as well. He shrugged. "We might have overheard."

"You two are so sweet," Sean gritted out, his arms apparently growing tired. Arya rolled her eyes and pushed herself off him, successfully landing on her feet.

She scowled. "You two are lucky my powers don't involve being able to hurt you without getting my knuckles bruised."

Alex's eyes widened. "She's pissed."

"Yep," Sean agreed. Together, they ran back into the house, both of them throwing peace signs over their shoulders.

Arya rolled her shoulders, sighing deeply. "I can't believe they were listening in," she grumbled, taking her place once again behind Charles.

He chuckled, patting her hand which was already on the handholds to his chair. She started walking them into the mansion and he said, "They're just happy that you're staying."

_I am too,_ she thought to herself, but she had an auspicious feeling that maybe her telepath was thinking the same thing as well.

* * *

**just a few things i forgot to include in my A/N way up there. won-t take long, i promise. :)**

**1\. the second and third installment will be uploaded in THIS story, not in another one. i-ll just put a label on the first chapter of each, so you guys won-t get confused.**

**2\. SORRY FOR ANY GRAMMAR ERRORS/SPELLING MISTAKES. i wrote this in sort of a hurry.**

**3\. I love you guys! :D**

**4\. Stick around. Don-t leave. Make sure to check your emails and Alerts for any update considering Arya and Charles. ;)**

**Lots of love,**

**~ellesmer**


	21. RECTIFY - Chapter 1 - For the Memories

**here it is~ ^^**

**this is sort of just a teaser/prologue of sorts though. No real action in this, but i couldn't help it, knowing how long you guys have been waiting. xD**

**anyway, this coming week is review week, and the week after that is exams week. Meaning: i won't be able to update for two weeks. Unless I somehow find time, which is sort of probable, but only a bit.**

**I'm sure y'all know what happens after this chapter though, so you'll have something to look forward to. ;)**

**Rights to the characters and X-Men go to Fox. Arya, however, is mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

It was a day like any other day: completely unexciting. Arya was in her room getting ready for a day-out in the town. (Staying in an almost empty mansion all day could drive some people nuts.) She only had two other people for company in the entire house, and it wasn't that they were uninteresting; they were just… always busy.

Arya sighed in front of the mirror, giving herself another once-over. Her hair had grown longer again, and she was considering giving it a quick trim… _again_. It was getting harder to maintain. Tangles were becoming wilder; she couldn't even describe what her head looked like every morning. She'd also gotten thinner (or fatter, she had no idea); a little of both, possibly. When she saw her face, she frowned. Was it just her, or had the eye-bags grown even heavier? She stared at them for a moment longer before concluding that they had. _If you think about it,_ she mused silently, _it kind of makes sense._ After grabbing her satchel bag off the floor, she headed downstairs.

The hallways were eerily silent, as they had been for a long time, but she could remember when students used to roam through the huge rooms. They would come and go, talking and laughing in-between classes. They weren't a lot, but they were enough.

Arya remembered when Banshee had tried to get some of them to drink, and when he ended up soaking in the pool than getting drunk in the bar with underage teens; when Alex tried to take one of the students out for a date. Charles was so disappointed with him, but it ended up being a good laugh afterwards—for Hank, mostly.

She remembered the many mutants the good professor had recruited to become teachers, including herself. To her surprise, the students actually learned some things from her classes. She took pride in that.

Of course, that was all before most of the students were drafted for the war. Students _and_ teachers, actually. She recalled the day the soldiers came knocking on their door, and when some of the pupils and teachers actually went in their own free will. She remembered Alex and Sean walking out the doors, guiding a skinny boy of 19 in front of them. They had both thrown smiles over their shoulders before getting in the truck. She had watched them drive away, knowing that Charles was watching as well.

Once she reached the main hallway, with the front door only a few feet away, she turned her head and found Charles sitting in the living room with his back to her, a glass in one hand and an almost empty bottle of whiskey in the other. The sight wasn't as alarming as it once was. She'd gotten used to seeing him like this, and that fact was more alarming than anything else, in her opinion.

_It's been seven years._ Arya frowned, unbelieving, as she watched him empty the bottle into his glass. His hands were unsteady, and when he placed the battle back onto the desk beside him, Arya was quite positive that it cracked. Almost every night, she would watch him stumble into his bedroom; _I'm not going to do this anymore,_ she would always tell herself, only to cave in minutes afterwards and help him get into bed. He would have tripped over his own bathroom mat if she hadn't.

Now, she realized that letting him drink his sorrows away was not such a good idea. The closing of the school had taken a great toll on both of them, but Charles most of all. He had a vision: to teach young mutants how to find their way as he had done with Arya. But all that was taken away from him, from _them_. Along with Erik and Raven, and Alex and Sean.

Neither of them had heard from any of the four, other than the fact that on November 22, 1963, President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. "A sniper," the public said had killed him. But both Arya and Charles knew that it was a curved bullet that had killed the president, and that that curved bullet was the work of their friend-turned-enemy, Erik Lehnsherr. Only one year after the events in Cuba, and two years before the school's closing.

When Arya was once again able to focus on the present rather than the past, she found that Charles had already drained his glass clean and was standing up to get another bottle. She crossed her arms as he turned around. She expected him to freeze at the sight of her, but he merely continued on his way to the liquor cabinet. "Hello, Arya," he said casually, a drunken slur in his voice. "What can I do for you this fine afternoon?"

"We've been friends for ten years, Charles," she stated, putting an edge into her voice to get his attention. _Only friends._ Did he even notice that she didn't use the word "girlfriend"?

It seemed that he hadn't, and that sent a flare of pain from her chest. He froze for a moment and turned partly sideways to face her. "Sorry," he said simply, before turning around again.

Arya tried to ignore the ache in her heart and cleared her throat. "Well, I'm gonna head into town again, maybe get a few drinks. You want to come?"

She hoped he would say yes. Sometimes, she would get lucky and he'd agree to go have dinner out with her. She hoped, and prayed, in her head that he would say yes this time, knowing that he couldn't read her mind anymore so that he wouldn't know what she was thinking. Of course, he didn't know what she was thinking—or feeling, because he didn't even turn around when he shook his head. "No thank you, Arya. I think I'll be staying here."

_Drowning in my memories,_ she thought he would add, but he didn't. He only turned around again to walk back to his armchair; he sat down and continued to stare at the window, taking occasional large gulps from his glass.

Arya sighed, already starting the countdown in her head as she made her way in front of him. _Five…_ His head slumped sideward. _Four…_ His legs stretched out in front of him. _Three…_ His eyes closed. _Two…_ Before he drifted into unconsciousness, Arya slipped the glass out of his hands and set it on the side table. The serum Hank had made for him, to temporarily let him be able to walk again but take away his mutation, sat there was well. She looked away immediately, hating it with every fibre of her being.

He wanted to walk again. She understood that. But she couldn't understand why he would pay the price without even a second thought.

"Arya…" he murmured. "Love…"

"Get some sleep, Charles," she replied in earnest, looking down at him with sad eyes. His hair had grown longer, wilder, just like Arya's. And he had a slight beard now, which didn't suit him. The worst were his eyes; they were soft and so filled with hope before, but now they were just empty, black holes that Arya refused to look into.

Charles' eyes opened the slightest bit, a long sigh escaping his lips. "Still love me…?" he said, the words slurring in his barely-open mouth that Arya almost didn't catch it. Offering a small smile, she leaned down and placed a kiss near his lips. His stubble scraped against her lips, but she didn't mind. She missed him.

"I never stopped," she whispered into his ear.

When she pulled back, he was already snoring.

Sadness bloomed in her chest, and she had to resist the urge to take every goddamn bottle of alcohol in the house and empty them all outside, or sell them; either looked to be a good idea. She made a mental note to do just that as she breezed down the hallway. She stopped at the final door from the entrance. Opening it, Arya yelled down the dim staircase. "Hank! Keep an eye on Charles for me! I'm heading out!"

"Got it!" came the reply, before there were footsteps rushing up the stairs. When she saw the familiar head of brown hair running up the steps, she pulled out of the doorway and exited the mansion, not wanting to have to deal with another one of his geeky rants.

All she wanted was a large plate of fries in front of her, and an ice cold beer.

* * *

Her fingers tapped on the table loudly, attracting unheeded stares from the people sitting on the bar beside her. She kept doing it though, even until after the tips of her fingers hurt. She didn't care. She'd probably already made a name for herself in this particular bar.

Arya tried to escape from the rather depressing events that had happened recently, and focused more on the happy. She remembered the first time she'd visited Chloe after what happened in Cuba. Chloe had practically squealed in delight when she saw Charles trailing behind Arya. When they were finally alone and Charles had gone to get gas for the trip back, Chloe only said one word to her: "Spill." Arya hadn't been surprised, but she wondered if her friend thought that Charles was her dad or something, considering the fact that he was in a wheelchair.

Smiling at the memory, Arya nibbled on a French fry and thought back on when Charles had challenged her in a game of chess. "Winner gets to make plans for tonight," he had said; by the way his eyes shone with mischief, Arya was rather reluctant on taking on his challenge.

She lost, of course, and that night, they had dinner on the balcony with a canopy of stars shining above their heads.

Another memory: the first time he'd tutored her on how to gain better control of her powers. He'd used the word _remarkable_ quite a few times, and it saddened her that he didn't say those kinds of things to her anymore.

Her thoughts once again took a dangerous turn. Arya decided on not thinking about _anything_ for a while. She took a large swig from her glass, emptying it until the last drop with a single gulp. Her mind dulled, and for a glorious minute, all her worrying ceased. She let total blackness fill her head, concentrating on the constantly-moving white spots that weren't actually real.

She remembered asking Charles what they were, and he had always said, "It's all in the mind." But then she remembered that she wasn't supposed to be thinking about him.

It seemed that everything she thought about always led to her telepath, one way or another. When she thought about Chloe, or Carlsbad, or volleyball, or sand, or school, or sunlight, or grass, or rain—it all traced back to him.

Frowning, she tried to recall how and why that ever started when she felt someone poke her shoulder. Arya looked up, blinking. She hadn't realized she'd placed her head in her hands with her elbows propped up on the counter. It probably made her look drunker than she really was.

"What's up?" she asked, looking at the one who had poked her.

It was the bartender, and he was wiping a champagne glass clean with a towel. He was attractive, she could give him that. With his dark blonde hair and blue eyes, Arya would have mistaken him for a surfer if they weren't so far away from the beach.

"A little young to be a day-drinker, aren't you?" he said, raising his eyebrows slightly as he slid the now-clean glass into the holder.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Arya rubbed her face, and the bartender leaned forward slightly. "You alright?"

"Rough day," she answered, and then held out her glass. "Another, please?"

She frowned when he didn't take it. He, however, threw her an apologetic smile before taking it; though he didn't pour more of the golden liquid into it. "I think you've had enough."

"You don't know how much I can take," she replied, right before hiccupping into her hand.

"Oh, really?" The bartender laughed. His eyes travelled downward to her hands. "What's with the extra accessories?"

"These?" Arya raised her hands so he could see the gloves more clearly. "Needed precaution." Why did she say that? She was never supposed to say that to any human. She learned that lesson years ago. She was supposed to say that it was a _bad rash_. Charles hated the need to lie as much as she herself did, but it was a necessary evil.

The bartender grinned. "Are you dangerous or something?"

"Don't underestimate a woman," she said, raising a finger and smiling slightly. "But yeah, you could say that."

To her surprise, the bartender started backing away, his hands up beside his head. Arya frowned. "What?"

"Are you gonna beat me up now?"

She started giggling, very, very loudly. When she finally sobered up, half the bar was giving her odd glances from the corner of their eyes. The bartender had a serious face on, too. Arya cleared her throat awkwardly, pushing her stool back. "Yeah," she drawled. "I should probably get going."

"Probably." He chuckled. "You need a ride?"

"I'm good," she replied, already waking away.

"You sure you can drive?" the bartender called from behind the counter.

Arya whipped her head back and looked at him over her shoulder. "I'm more sober than you think!" The accompanying hiccup hadn't exactly helped her. It only decreased her chances at successfully lying. In fact, she was drunker than she'd expected.

Luckily, the blonde didn't notice and he shook his head, smiling. "I suppose so," he said.

After throwing him one last smile, Arya walked out the bar.

* * *

The drive back was unceremonious and quick. She'd hoped to stay in town until the sun had set and it was dark out, but there was a growing pit in her stomach—and she wasn't sure if it was because of the booze. There was no way Charles or Hank was in danger, right? Nothing exciting had ever happened in that mansion for more than four years. Why would anything happen now, at the height of solemnity? The Vietnam War was close to ending, and the military had drafted more of their students than she could count. They wouldn't come for Charles or Hank so far into the fight. What other dangers were there? Raven? She wouldn't hurt either of them, never. Erik? He was in a locked down facility even Arya couldn't dream of breaking into.

As far as she knew, none of them had done anything to force the government into harming them. They were supposed to be safe and sound.

When she arrived at the house, there was an unfamiliar dark green Impala parked on the driveway.

Arya's heartbeat sped up.

She parked Charles' car a little ways behind the Impala and got out, rushing up the porch steps. The driver of the dark green car wasn't in it, and Arya safely assumed that he was inside the mansion, either having a chat with one of his old friends, or getting into a fight he wished he hadn't started.

* * *

**Logan's gonna be in some sort of trouble~ But then, you guys already knew that. xD**

**P.S. WHO'S EXCITED AF FOR X-MEN: APOCALYPSE?!**


	22. Chapter 2 - Visitor

**I'M BAAAAACK. also, i'm pretty sure i flunked my science and math exams.**

**ANYWHO, quick shoutout to Amanda, who reviewed as an anonymous reader. Thank you for taking the time to type that long thing out! Damn gurl. you have my respect. ;) ALSO, I LAUGHED A BIT WHEN I READ THE FIRST SENTENCE. "i was thinking when charles gets out of his alcohol/drug haze he better worship the ground she walks on because not most women would stay with a man like him during that time and she did for seven years..." OMG I KNOW RIIIIIGHT HAHAHA**

**"worship the ground she walks on" JESUS HAHAHA X'DD**

**I do not own X-Men; I only own my OC, Arya, and her powers.**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

The door had been left open. Arya stepped into the house warily, her ears perked up for any signs of a hazard. Her eyes flicked from left to right, the familiar feeling of adrenaline coursing through her just like those days spent training with the others before Cuba. Unconsciously, she slipped her gloves off her hands and flexed her fingers. She wasn't supposed to be happy about having to use her powers again, but she was. How long had it been?

Suddenly, the sounds of glass breaking and shifting tables entered her ears, and she froze on the spot. A man sailed through the parting of the staircases, landing all the way on the other side, where his guttural yell was cut short. Beast followed soon after—and it wasn't the calm, collected, friendly Hank that Arya had slowly gotten used to. He landed on top of the stranger with a loud thud, and a loud snarl cut through his throat.

"HANK!" Arya called. Hank stilled on top of the man and whipped his head back, meeting her eyes. A questioning stare; Arya returned it with a serious frown. "Bring him here," she said, nodding at the table in the middle of the room, a few ways in front of her.

Hank nodded once, before picking the stranger up by the shoulders and roughly tossing him over the railings of the staircase. The man landed spot-on on the middle of the table. Arya found it a miracle that the maple hadn't broken under the sheer weight of him, for he looked pretty heavy. She took a moment to inspect him.

He had dark hair, spiked up at two sides, and sideburns that extended long enough down his jaw to be considered a beard. It didn't reach his chin, though. His face was hard, seemingly inflexible. That changed when Hank jumped from his spot on top of the staircase and onto the chandelier above them, where he hung from using his feet. That made the stranger's eyes widen and his lips part in a scream that was inevitable.

"Don't shout," Arya said firmly. "Hank won't hurt you." Above them, Beast growled; whether from agreement or not, she wasn't sure. "Tell me, who the hell are you and why are you here?"

"He says he's looking for the professor," Beast said, snarling and baring his teeth, making the man quake.

"Charles?" Arya raised an eyebrow at Hank as he bobbed his head once. She looked back down at the stranger and frowned. "Why are you looking for him?"

This question seemed to snap him from his thoughts (presumably about Beast), and he raised his eyes to meet Arya's. Her fingers twitched in anticipation. He swallowed thickly. "I have to tell him—"

"Hank!" Charles' voice effectively cut him off. "What's going on down there?" His question was followed by the sound of footsteps as he trudged down the stairs.

Arya didn't look up from the stranger. "There's a guy here, says he wants to see you."

The stranger's eyes were no longer looking at her, but he had craned his neck to get a better view of Charles, who was sure to have reached the bottom of the staircase by then. "Professor," he said, though his tone was questioning.

"Please don't call me that," Charles replied. His voice sounded less slurred than it was before, and Arya was thankful. But there was still a hint of drunkenness in his tone that made Arya's stomach churn.

Above her, Beast pointed at the man lying on the table. "You know this guy?" he asked.

"He looks… _slightly_ familiar," Charles drawled, before waving his bottle at Beast. "Get off the bloody chandelier, Hank."

Arya didn't appreciate the way he sounded so casual about it, considering there was a possibly homicidal man in the mansion with them. Hank looked to her for approval (and it warmed her heart that he even did so), and she nodded. His feet unclenched from the bars of the chandelier and he landed on his feet across Arya.

The stranger started pulling himself up. "You can walk?" he asked.

"You're a perceptive one," Charles said, the corners of his lips pulling up in a drunken smile. Arya frowned at the glass of whiskey in his hand, but decided that it wasn't the time for her daily scolding.

"I thought Erik—"

Arya almost hissed at the mention of his name. Fortunately, Charles didn't seem to notice, and he continued on his rant.

"Also," he continued. "It's _slightly_ perplexing that you missed our sign on the way in. This is private property, my friend. And I'm going to have to ask… _him_ to ask you to leave." He gestured to Hank, and in his Beastly form, Arya wasn't sure if he was unhappy or pleasured to have been given such a task.

Meanwhile, the elephant in the room (figuratively speaking) had pulled himself onto his feet. He was now standing between Hank and Arya with a tight expression on his face that suggested he was either constipated, or thinking. Either way, Arya wasn't planning on letting him out of her sight.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he said.

Arya crossed her arms intimidatingly. "Why not?"

For some reason, the man's eyes flickered to her whenever she spoke, and whenever she returned his gaze, he would quickly avert his gaze. It unnerved her. He cleared his throat. "Because, uh…" When he didn't continue, Arya shifted on her feet. "Because I was sent here for you," he finally finished, looking up to stare at Charles with a serious expression.

"Well," Charles began, "tell whoever it was that sent you that I'm… busy." Arya finally craned her neck to look at him, raising an eyebrow. He returned the gesture with a nonsensical shrug.

"This is gonna be a little tricky," the man then said, and Arya scowled at the smug expression on his face, but it was gone as soon as it came, replaced by a deep sense of urgency. "Because the person who sent me was _you_."

"What?" asked Charles, sounding rather drowsy; when Arya turned around to look at him, he was quite awake, and very much confused, just like she was.

"About fifty years from now," the stranger continued.

"Fifty years from now, like, in the _future_ fifty years from now?"

"Yeah."

Arya started backing up from the stranger, taking her place beside Charles, who had taken a seat on the steps. She wasn't ridiculing the man, even though what he was saying sounded like nonsense. No. In fact, she was rather intrigued at the possibility. The stranger was a mutant, no doubt; he had that familiar aura about him that made Arya's mutation tingle.

"I sent you from the future," Charles said, unbelieving.

"Yeah." At the man's reply, Charles turned his gaze to Hank, who pursed his lips and shook his head subtly. When neither of them looked to her for advice, she slowly started opening her palms.

Charles scoffed. "Piss."

The stranger raised an eyebrow pryingly. "If you had your powers, you'd know I was telling the truth."

"How do you know I don't have my powers…?" Charles straightened up in his seat. "Who are you?"

"I told you."

"Are you CIA?"

"No."

"You've been watching me?" He sounded very defensive, now.

"I know you, Charles," said the stranger. "We've been friends for years. I know your powers came when you were nine. I know you thought you were going crazy when it started, all the voices in your head. And it wasn't until you were twelve that you realized all the voices were in everyone else's head. Do you want me to go on?"

Charles shook his head. "I never told anyone that except Raven and Arya."

At the mention of her name, Arya used one hand to grip Charles' hand tight. Her heart fluttered when his other hand crawled over hers and squeezed. He was shaking. Arya stroked her thumb across his knuckles in an effort to calm him down—it always worked before, just like it did with her—but focused partly on initiating her powers. It'd been so long since she used them last that it was hard to use it on the stranger, who stood not twelve feet away. She cursed inwardly for not keeping up the practice.

The stranger seemed to notice these little things, but to his credit, he ignored them. "Not yet, no," he said. "But you will."

Then in one sudden burst of power, Arya's abilities took hold of her and the world around her turned a hue of grey. Beside her, Charles' mutation shone in his head like a streetlight… a very, _very_ dull streetlight. A little ways in front of her, Hank's entire body was enveloped in a thin sheet of white light. The stranger's, however, had light throbbing in his bones. Literally.

His bones, which stretched from his skull to the tips of his toes, were mutated. The pulsing glow was startlingly bright, and it made Arya curious to know what his mutations allowed him to do. Nevertheless, she held herself back and instead leaned down to whisper into Charles' ear. "Mutant," she whispered; a single word and yet he understood perfectly. Just like how their relationship used to be like before.

Charles looked at her, and for the first time in years, the familiar sparkle in his eyes returned. He patted her hand, before returning his gaze to the stranger. "Alright, you've piqued my interest," he said, sounding quite tense. "What do you want?"

"You have to stop Raven."

Arya's head snapped up. Her hands clenched closed. _Raven?_ she thought. _What would she have to do with this? She's done nothing wrong._ That wasn't true. Arya didn't even know what part of the world she was in, let alone her plans for the future. She remembered when it was just workouts in the gym and cooking pancakes for the guys during mornings. She wished Cuba had never happened; that they'd just been recruited to form the school, and that it had never changed.

It was Erik's fault that it changed.

Hank shifted on his feet, turning his head to look at Arya. She didn't return his gaze. Charles' hand tightened around hers up to the point that it was rather painful, but she didn't remove herself from him. Talk of Raven, the person they both loved as a sister, pained him just as it did her.

"I need your help," the stranger continued, taking in the professor's pained expression with a solemn stare. "_We_ need your help."

Beside her, Charles pulled his hand away, saying, "I think I'd like to wake up now." He stood up and sauntered to the living room, where he disappeared behind the rows of bookshelves. The stranger-man's shoulders sagged and he rubbed his face distressfully. From where he stood by the doorway to the living room, Hank started shrinking in size, the blue hairs on his body slowly retreating back into his skin. His face held a look of profound sadness. Arya knew how much he admired Raven, maybe even loved her for a time.

"What does she have to do with this?" he asked.

The stranger regarded him with hard, but curious eyes. "It'd be best if the professor was with you when I explain the situation."

Hank nodded, and then turned around and followed Charles into the living room. Arya looked at the stranger with calculating eyes, not quite trusting him yet, even though she believed him already. "What's your name?" she asked him.

"Logan," he answered.

"Logan," Arya repeated, carefully testing it on her tongue. After a moment, she turned and slowly paced into the living room. "Follow me."

* * *

"So, you're saying that they took Raven's power and, what—they... _weaponized_ it?" Charles asked, a glass of alcohol already having found its way into his hands.

"Yep," replied Logan.

Beside him, Hank shrugged. "She is unique." Arya sat to Logan's left, and from there, she saw him and the professor share knowing looks.

"Yeah, she is, Hank," Charles said, his voice dripping with melancholy. He walked to the left side of the room, sitting on the couch by the tall window that looked over the swimming pool. Arya frowned, sadness filling her as well, but recollecting about their mutant friend wasn't what they were there to do. She nodded for Logan to continue, and he did.

"In the beginning," he said, "the sentinels were just targeting mutants. Then they began to identify the genetics in non-mutants that would eventually have mutant children and grandchildren..." He trailed off, his eyes seemingly staring many years into the future, _their_ future. "Many of the humans tried to help us. There was a slaughter, leaving only the worst of humanity in charge. I've been in a lot of wars; I've never seen anything like this. And it all starts with her."

Charles leaned back against the pillows of his old, blue sofa. "Let's just say that for the sake of... _this_, that I choose to believe you," he said. "That I choose to _help_ you. Raven won't listen to me." A humorless smile spread across his face. "No, her heart and soul belong to someone else now."

Arya's eyes flickered to the right to find Hank's head drooped miserably low. Charles' jaw was set, taut. So was hers. She despised Erik for starting the war between mutants and mankind, for taking Raven away from them, for taking away Charles' legs. Often times, she would ponder on what would have happened if he hadn't redirected those missiles in Cuba, if he hadn't taken Raven away, and she'd end up despising him more than before.

"I know," Logan replied simply, standing up from his seat. "That's why we're gonna need Magneto too."

"_Erik_?" Arya practically snarled, bristling at the idea of coming to _him_ for help. By the window, Charles started chuckling.

"You do know where he is, right?" Hank inquired.

Logan bobbed his head. "Yeah."

Charles had broken out into full laughter now—but he wasn't amused. In fact, if Arya had to guess, he was _incredibly_ pissed off. Just as quickly, his wide grin turned into a scowl. "He's where he belongs," he muttered to Logan, still loud enough for Hank and Arya to hear.

He stood up from his place on the couch and strode past Logan, who followed his movements with a glare. "That's it?" Logan said. "You're just gonna walk out?"

"Top marks!" Charles was already halfway to the stairs when he turned around to point at Logan, grinning sarcastically. "Like I said, you are perceptive." When his eyes flickered just past Logan to where Arya sat, she threw him a disapproving look. He showed no means of acknowledging her, only turning back around and taking the first steps up the stairs.

"The professor I know would never turn his back on someone who lost their path," Logan stated, his voice turning quiet. "Especially someone they loved."

At that, Charles stopped in his tracks. He backed up, not facing them until he was once again a foot away from Logan. "You know? I think I _do_ remember you now," he said, gesturing to him with his glass of vodka. "Yeah, we came to you a long time ago seeking your help. And I'm going to say to you what you said to us then: _Fuck off._"

Logan lost his patience, then. He grabbed Charles by the lapels of his robe and held him up, making the professor stand on his tiptoes. They were eye to eye. Arya jumped up from her seat. Her first instinct was to rush to Charles' aid, but Hank held her back, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her closer to him. "He _has_ to be persuaded, Arya," he said, lowering his voice so that only she could hear. "If what this guy is saying is true, then we have to help."

Arya didn't take her eyes off Charles. Logan was talking to him, his voice too low for her to hear.

"He won't hurt him," she said in reply to Hank, opening her palms once more. She remembered her training with Charles, then, and she latched onto Logan's mutation like duck to water. The familiar heat rushed into her hands as the pulsing glow in his bones faded.

Luckily, he didn't seem to feel it. Logan crudely let go of Charles, and the professor stared at him with an expression Arya couldn't read. "We all have to die sometime," Charles said coldly. He turned around and, on his way up the stairs, took a swig of his vodka.

"I told you there was no professor here," Hank said.

Upon hearing this, Arya turned around and glared at him half-heartedly. "I'll talk to him," she said, speaking to both him and Logan. "He'll help, I promise. And Logan?" The wild-looking mutant inclined his head. "He's lost his path too."

She didn't wait for his reply before turning away and bounding up the steps; on her way to his room, she couldn't help but to feel as if a new sense of meaning had just walked into her life.

* * *

**next chapter comes up right after this! ^^**

**don't forget to review, my lovelies!**


	23. Chapter 3 - Convinced

**Chapter 3**

Arya knocked on his door three times in succession, and none of those times did he open it for her. He already knew that it was her waiting too. She'd yelled at him through the damned wood that kept them apart. When it became obvious enough that he was not going to open the door unless he wanted to (which he didn't), she turned the knob herself.

He was sitting on his favorite plush one-man sofa that had been placed just beside his bed. The rest of the room was a mess, the same way it'd always been for six years. Sweat-stained clothes were strewn about the floor, the ones neither Hank nor Arya had found the time to take to a Laundromat yet. Empty bottles of whiskey were distributed evenly all around the room. Arya almost stepped on a wet spot of spilled alcohol if she hadn't noticed it sooner. The bed sheet had been untucked from the bottom of the mattress, spreading like an eagle across the bed and an inch away from touching the dusty floor. Only one pillow remained by the wooden headrest; the other had found its way onto Charles' sofa, but the owner himself was now sitting on it with a blank expression on his face.

Arya followed the trail of his vision and found that he was staring at his golden-framed picture of Raven that sat on his bedside table. There was this wide smile on her face. She wasn't looking at the camera either; she was looking at something to her right, something out of the camera lens' line of vision. Back when the picture was taken, Raven still walked around dressed as a blonde girl, not in normal blue skin. She was beautiful either way.

Even as Arya walked a wide arc from the bed to Charles, he didn't look away from the picture. Only when she was standing directly in front of him did he finally tear his eyes away, but even then he wouldn't meet her gaze.

"I don't want to talk about it, Arya."

"You never want to talk about it, Charles," Arya retorted, trying to sound angry but only ending up sounding utterly tired. It had been so long since they'd had such a civilized conversation. Most of the time he was drunk, sometimes he was just asleep and murmuring random words to her, all to which she would reply because she missed him. So, so much.

Charles grunted in response but said nothing more. Hope flared inside Arya, though, because he didn't tell her to leave either. _I'll get you back just yet,_ she thought silently to herself, turning and taking a seat on Charles' bed because it wasn't like he was going to offer his own. Nor was she asking him to.

"Do you remember that time when you made a bet with me about Alex?" inquired Arya. "He was trying to go on a date with one of my students, and I said that if he got that date, you'd take me hiking at Oneonta Gorge in Oregon. You bet against him and—"

"And I lost," Charles finished for her. He swiped at his eyes. "I don't see what all this has got to do with Raven, Arya; or the future, or Bolivar Trask, or the sentinel program, or anything related to that matter."

She didn't remind him that he didn't take her hiking _anywhere_. Before they could, the soldiers had come and taken everything away, including Alex. When she spoke again, Arya's voice had dropped an octave lower. She said, "I just wanted to remind you that the betting table is still open, even after ten years."

The professor blinked. "You want to make… _a bet_," he said, drawling out the words. Arya nodded once. "That's what you came here for? To make a bet? Honestly, Arya, you couldn't wait until that bloke Logan's left? I would have been more than happy to oblige—"

"Except you would've gotten drunk as soon as he left," Arya interjected sharply. Something in her snapped. "In fact, I'd think you were drunk now if I hadn't gone in here to tell you that you're making the stupidest decision of your life. But I did, and you know what I found? Something _worse_: you, sitting around like an _idiot_ when you could be out there—with me, and Hank, and Logan—trying to save the goddamn future from turning into shit because our _friend_ has turned homicidal."

For some reason, she'd chosen to snap in that particular moment; probably because Charles had never been such a douche to her before. And everything she'd said was true too. He was being stupid. She was finished with her rant, something she'd been holding in for such a long time, but she was breathless. "Did I miss anything?" she asked, her voice still holding an edge to it.

Charles shook his head. The look in his eyes as he stared at her sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. He hadn't looked at her like that in years. He pushed himself onto his feet, saying, "What's in it for me?"

Arya frowned, surprised that he'd ask such a thing. "You get to stop the extinction of the mutant species from ever happening, and you get to see your best friend again."

"No, I meant…" He was right in front of her now, his eyes only inches away from hers as his breath cascaded over her lips like smoky waterfalls. "What do I get from you?"

"My greatest appreciation…?" Arya really had no idea where the conversation was going—and the close proximity made her head spin. "Really, Charles, I don't know what you want me to say—"

Then, in a quarter of a second, he had closed the distance between them. His hand found its way to the back of her neck, where he held her and kept her face close. His other hand settled on her hip; his mouth, which had previously been hovering restlessly inches away, crashed over hers. The moment arrived quickly, was unexpected, but stayed for a long while. Arya's eyes fluttered closed, her mind enraptured in the heat of the moment. His kiss was passionate, desperate. Several times his tongue brushed against her lip, making her shudder. He'd never kissed her like this before. Arya's hands crawled up his back, making the edging of his sleeveless shirt ride up his torso. His hand trailed to the small of her back, where he pushed gently, letting their stomachs touch.

Every nerve in Arya's body felt like it was on fire. For all she cared, they could have been. If a meteor had collided with the earth, killing everything in existence, she still would have been lost in that moment with Charles, savoring every touch, every nip, every breath he gave her.

In the middle of everything, he had turned them around and pinned Arya against the wall. He pulled her hand away from his back and pushed it up above her head, along with the other, which had been gripping his hair. He held it there with one of his own as he continued bruising his lips against hers. The thick stubble that had accumulated on his chin and upper mouth scratched against her lip, but it was easily ignored.

When the need for breathing finally came, Charles was the first to pull away—although he was the only one who could actually do so. Arya was in no position to move. She looked at him with eyes half glazed, staring into his eyes and finding the answer to their previous arrangement. "_Oh_," she said, her breath coming out so small that it could have been a whisper. "You're sure?"

"I'm more afraid of what _you've_ got to say about my deal, Arya." The twinkle in his eyes lessened, and he leaned his head in lower so that their foreheads touched. He closed his eyes. "But it's what I want."

Arya took a moment to process his request. This was what she'd always feared when going into relationships blind. Significant others would always ask for these kinds of things; it was inevitable. Arya would never have even _considered_ it with other men. But Charles wasn't just another man. He was a mutant, like her. She didn't need to be afraid to touch him. He wouldn't get hurt. These days, he enjoyed having the voices taken away. Arya brought into mind the sheer _need_, the desperation she'd found in his eyes only a few moments ago. Then she remembered the promise she'd made to him eleven years ago, and all other doubts disappeared from existence.

She brought one hand up and buried it in his hair, gently stroking his scalp and letting the familiar warmth course through her palms and into him. "I'm not leaving you," she told him in a whisper, brushing her nose softly against his.

Charles' eyes widened in recognition of her words. A thin sheet of moisture appeared over his eyes, and his lip quivered. "You still love me?" he shakily asked.

Arya smiled. She brushed a stray tear from his cheeks with her thumb, stroking his face all the while. She repeated the words she'd said earlier that day, the ones he hadn't been able to hear before, but was going to now: "I never stopped."

His lips widened in a smile, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Remarkable," he whispered, bringing a hand up to pull away a strand of hair from her face. Arya grinned, before kissing him again; a chaste kiss, but her insides churned all the same.

"There's still the small problem about your legs though, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Her grin widened at the frown that appeared on his face, but before he could say a word, she slipped away from him, giving her space to insert her hand into his. She started tugging him out of the room. "Come on," she said. "Raven's waiting for us."

* * *

She _still_ hated the idea of going to Erik for help. They were going to go through so much crap to get him out of his cell beneath the Pentagon and, what—he was going to betray them again? Stab them in the back and steal another friend, maybe Hank? Arya didn't believe that Hank would leave them for anything, but if Raven were to talk to him… she couldn't be so sure anymore.

He, Arya, Logan, and Charles stood in the middle of the living room, looking over Hank's blueprints of the Pentagon. (Arya wondered why the CIA had trusted him so much as to give him blueprints to the damn _Pentagon_.) On their way down, Charles already had a glass in his hand, but Arya took it, spilled its contents out the window, and filled it with tap water instead. He had smiled at her when she handed it back, but even as they stood huddled over the blueprints, the look in his eyes suggested that it wasn't going to be easy to ease him back to sobriety.

Hank was talking. "The room they're holding him in was built during the second world war, when there was a shortage of steel, so the foundation is pure concrete and sand." He looked up and met Arya's eyes. "No metal."

Arya made a mental note. _I won't be able to use his powers down there… but neither would he._

"He's being held a hundred floors beneath the _most_ heavily guarded building on the planet," Charles stated, smiling slightly. The prospect of getting him out did seem very impossible. Arya was hoping that Hank was already thinking of a plan. He was currently staring at nothing in particular, after all.

Logan frowned. "Why is he in there?"

That snapped Hank out of his reverie. His head snapped up, and he and Charles shared a look. "What—he forgot to mention?" the professor inquired cynically, to which Logan shook his head once. Charles scoffed, but otherwise didn't answer the question. He returned his gaze onto the blueprints, his jaw set.

Arya took it upon herself to answer. "JFK," she muttered to the mutant, pursing her lips.

Logan blinked. "He killed…"

"What else explains a bullet miraculously curving through the air?" said Arya. Her hands clenched into fists, but her arms were crossed so none of the men noticed.

Beside her, Charles sighed. "Erik's always had a way with guns," he said, sounding quite amused but when Arya looked up, his eyes were filled with bitterness and grief. She uncrossed her arms and slipped her hand into his, squeezing it. He met her gaze, and squeezed back before looking to Logan. "You're sure you want to carry on with this?"

"Hey." Logan held his hands up. "This is your plan, not mine."

Hank readjusted his glasses. "We don't have any resources to get us in."

"Or out," Charles added. "It's just me, Hank, and Arya."

Once he said that, Logan looked at Arya with an intense stare that made her uncomfortable. "What can you do?" he asked.

She didn't want to show him her powers. Not yet. "Nothing that'd help," she answered lamely. And it was true too. Neither Hank nor Charles exactly had the power of invisibility that she could borrow, and Logan looked more of the violent type than pacifistic. Her powers wouldn't be able to help unless one of them suddenly gained an extra mutation which, Charles had stated time and time again, was impossible.

"Any ideas?" asked Arya, raising an eyebrow at Logan.

After a few beats, he nodded his head. "I know a guy," he said. "Yeah, he'd be a young man now. Grew up outside of DC. He could get into anywhere." He laughed lightly with his rough voice, before turning serious again. "Just don't know how the hell we're gonna find him."

"Is Cerebro out of the question?" Arya quietly asked Charles, her voice low enough so even Hank couldn't hear from across the table. When her telepath didn't answer, she gave his hand a squeeze. She looked up and met Logan's eyes, shrugging. "We have a phone book."

Hank retrieved the phone book from the top of the book case immediately. The hardbound cover of it was caked with a thick sheet of dust. The pages weren't nearly as many as one would find in a dictionary, but enough to make Arya wonder how long it would take her to scan the entire thing. She never had much experience with books. After going through four years of high school in Carlsbad, she never went to college. But neither did Chloe, and both of them were doing fine on their own, so she really didn't feel so strongly about it.

She watched from the sidelines as Logan flipped through the pages, using his index finger to scan through the dozens of names that were on each page. He'd skipped about a quarter away from the middle. The letter _**M**_ was typed on the upper left hand corner of the page, with the list of surnames enumerated below. Logan's finger stopped at _Maximoff_ _P._

"There," he said, motioning for Charles and Hank to come closer. Arya had already been standing beside him, scanning the names as well and seeing if she could find any familiar ones. Looking over her shoulder, she watched as the two geniuses broke away from their seemingly heated conversation. When Charles walked up to her, he gave her forehead a quick peck before turning his attention to Logan, who was staring at the address on the phone book in contemplation.

Charles snapped him out of his reverie, clapping his hands loud enough for Hank to jump in surprise. Arya looked at him with raised eyebrows, feeling giddy that he was back to his old self… almost. Almost back to his old self.

"Well then," the telepath said. "Who's driving?"

* * *

For some reason, Charles decided against using one of his cars. (_One of his_—yes, he had more than one.) They ended up driving to the Maximoff's house in Logan's Impala, where Charles was sat in the driver's seat and Logan sat shotgun, telling him how it was a "one-time thing". Arya sat in the backseat with Hank, muttering questions to him about how long the effects of his serum would last on Charles.

"Couple of hours," he murmured back. "Four or so at most. Last time he injected himself was this morning. He's bound to get his telepathy back any time now."

Arya bobbed her head. "Got it."

It didn't take a very long time after that to arrive at the house, and Arya was surprised at how much it looked like the building she and her parents used to live in when she was younger. The grassy front yard, the rock steps that led to the porch, the dull grey exterior and dark roof; even the detail that it was two floors and had a small window that overlooked the drive way from the second floor.

Memories clouded Arya's brain, foggy but consistent. She did her best to push them deeper into the confines of her mind, because Logan had knocked on the glass door and it was unlocked, revealing a brown-haired woman with too much make-up on.

She didn't look too surprised to see them; at least, not as surprised as Arya might have expected. "What's he done now?" the woman asked, her voice low and serious. "I'll just write you a check for whatever he took." Arya's lip twitched up in a half-smile. _A juvenile, then. This will be fun._

"We just need to talk to him," Logan replied coolly. Arya could have imagined the smirk on his face. The woman nodded once, before moving aside and letting the four of them step into the house.

"Peter!" the woman, who must have been _Peter's_ mother, called. "The cops are here!" After a moment, she added, "Again."

_They aren't even dressed like cops,_ Arya thought mildly to herself. She was at the back of the group, and therefore was the last to go into the house. But as the three amigos immediately made their way for Peter, Arya stayed behind and inspected the brown welcome mat in front of the door. There was a section in the middle, about eight inches in width, which had turned black.

_Burnt _was the first thing that came to mind when Arya thought of a reason behind the blackening, but the area where it'd turned black didn't connect. With fires, usually the edges caught fire first. And if a lit match had apparently been placed onto the middle of the mat, the blackened part should have been circular.

Only one other cause made sense to Arya, then, and she resisted the urge to guffaw.

_Friction._

* * *

**Peter and Arya converse in the next chapter (which comes next week). Yay! :DD**

**REVIEW.**


	24. Chapter 4 - Codenames

**I was so surprised at how many people were excited to see Peter in this story! Like DAMN. Nearly all the reviews in the last chapter had statements about him. But it just wouldn't make sense for me to leave him out, though, considering he IS Erik's son... sadly, Peter won't be in this story for long, so enjoy him while you can!**

**Have some Arya x Peter interaction! :D**

**I DO NOT OWN X-MEN; I ONLY OWN ARYA AND ANY OTHER OC IN THIS STORY.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Logan opted to go back to the Institute for them to get dressed. Arya agreed with him all the way, giving them a once-over and exclaiming that they looked more like juvenile bikers than tourists. "And Charles?" she said, making the professor raise his eyebrows. "Shave. Please."

So as the men cleaned up and got changed upstairs, Arya was left waiting in the living room with their new recruit, Peter Maximoff.

Arya quite liked Peter. He reminded her of Chloe in many ways; one was that he was _very_ talkative. More than once, he'd burst out talking about this movie he liked, or how he didn't hate his mother but that she was just so protective, or how he never knew his father but he couldn't care less. He sat across from her on the sofa, but he never stayed there for long. If he wasn't sitting there, he was rummaging through Charles' bookshelves, flipping through the channels in the TV room, or running around the house looking for something to do.

All this, in less than twenty seconds. Either he was seriously ADHD, got bored really fast, or just liked to show off his powers.

His mutation fascinated Arya. Multiple times, she'd been tempted to pull her gloves off and try out his powers for herself. She wondered whether she would be able to hold onto his genes considering how fast she would be running around. Maybe it would seem like normal running once she grabbed hold. Maybe the world would slow down with its spinning while Arya ran around the house with her vision staying the same. She wanted to ask him if that was the case with his powers, but he beat her to the punch.

"So what's your power?" asked Peter, with his quick speaking. Arya wondered if his mutation reached the internal parts of his body, not just his bones and muscles. Because if that was the case, then every organ in his body reacted super-fast as well—his brain, his stomach, his heart. Pondering on this, Arya speculated how long it would take him to digest. It was obvious that his mutation affected his brain; she and Charles had seen him playing Ping-Pong with himself back at his house, and he never missed a beat.

Maybe in his head, he thought that he was fast, and everything around him was just super slow. Maybe the world slowed down for him after all.

"Hey." Peter snapped his fingers thrice in succession. Arya broke from her musings and met his gaze, raising her eyebrows inquiringly. Peter repeated his question. "What's your power?"

"Oh, um…" Arya cleared her throat awkwardly. "I don't feel comfortable showing you my—"

"Oh come on," the teen interjected. He disappeared from his seat for a moment, and after two brief flashes of silver hair, he reappeared, this time, with a spoon of peanut butter in his hand. "We're all friends here." He licked the peanut butter off the spoon little by little, like a Popsicle. Chloe used to do that all the time, finishing Arya's supply within days. Arya smiled at the memory, but quickly pushed it away, turning her attention back to Peter's request.

Her answer hadn't changed, but the foundations cracked slightly. "I _really_ don't feel comfortable—"

"Wait." Peter disappeared again. When he came back, he held a pillow over his eyes like a child. "Is it something I'm not allowed to see?" He peeked from behind the pillow, before playfully hiding his face behind it again.

Arya rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but wonder where the peanut butter had gone. "Oh, I'm sure you've seen it all."

Peter shrugged. "I've never seen the inside of the Pentagon before."

"Then today's your lucky day, kid."

When Arya didn't say more, Peter dropped the pillow and zoomed to the bookshelf (again), where he examined a rather thick book with yellowed pages. "Seriously though, I won't judge. I'm just curious. I've never met another person like me before." A grin stretched across his face. "Imagine my surprise when that Logan guy brought his claws out." Another beat of silence. "What's that kid with the glasses do? Is he like, super smart or something?"

"You could say that," Arya replied. "That, and he has the abilities of a great ape." Peter's head whipped up to gaze at her with widened eyes, and she nodded once. "We call him Beast."

Peter looked _so_ on board now. He put the book back where he got it and asked, "How about that hobo-looking guy?"

Arya thought he'd meant Logan, when he actually meant Charles. She guffawed, because _it was true_. Moustaches and beards didn't look too great on him. "You mean Charles?" she probed, grinning. Peter bobbed his head. "He's a telepath. He can read minds, talk to you from afar without having to open his mouth, and even manipulate your thoughts on occasion."

The younger mutant frowned, standing straighter on his spot by the doorway. "Was he manipulating my mind earlier today?"

She shouldn't have mentioned that, but answered him coolly, "He wasn't."

"How do you know?"

She refused to tell him about Hank's serum. If she did, he would ask why he even needed it, and Charles' story wasn't hers to tell. Instead, she simply said, "I just do."

Peter didn't seem satisfied. "Does it have something to do with your mutation?"

Arya hesitated. "Yes."

"Does your mutation have something to do with those?" His eyes flicked to her gloved hands, which she'd been trying to keep out of sight by slipping them beneath her thighs. Peter saw, though, and she reluctantly pulled them out.

"Yes," she replied.

"If you want me to trust you," Peter started, "prove to me that… _Charles_ wasn't controlling my mind. Tell me how you'd know if he was."

In other circumstances, his voice dropping an octave would have sent alarm bells going off in her head. But Peter acted so much like Chloe. Like her, he would be bubbly and childish in one moment, and completely serious in the next. Like her, he knew when to play it cool and play it staidly. Arya admired that about him. "It does pay to be careful in a world like this, huh?"

She offered an apologetic smile. Peter shifted on his feet carefully, and Arya could almost imagine the cogs spinning in his head like hamster wheels. "I'll show you," she said. "But you have to promise me that you won't mention _anything_ about what happened today to _anyone_. You understand?" A beat of silence, before Peter nodded his head. "Great."

Arya slipped the gloves off and held her hands beside her head, palms facing Peter so that he had a clear view of the identical symbols there. Like jagged spikes on a ball, the lines were lighter colored beneath the sunlight that streamed into the room. Arya's vision took on that familiar grey tinge, but only slightly considering her eyes were open.

Peter's mutation was like little tubules vibrating all throughout his body; just as Arya had predicted before, his mutation was also found within the very interiors of his brain, as well as every other organ. Her suspicions confirmed, and satisfied with finally figuring out his power, Arya went to explaining her own.

"_Basically_," she started lamely. "These thingamajiggies help me use my mutation. Wherever I point it at, that's where I want my power to work on." She shrugged. "Or I could just touch a mutant. It's easier."

"'Touch a _mutant_'?" Peter inclined his head. "It doesn't work on humans?"

"Something like that," Arya muttered, frowning. "My mutation lets me render another mutant's power useless. If I used it on you now, you could run and find yourself moving like a normal person." When she said that, Peter took a small step back. Arya discerned that he liked his mutation very much. "But my mutation also allows me to _use_ someone else's mutation. So, if I used it on you now…"

She trailed off, instead focusing her attention on using her powers. The dark tendrils crawled forth from her palms, creeping towards Peter in waves of grey. Arya made a grasping motion with her hand, grunting in exertion. It had been years since she'd done so last. She was, however, successful in latching onto Peter's genes. The glow of his mutation dulled.

"Try running," she told him, her voice coming out strained.

Frowning, Peter did as he was told, and jogged to the other side of the room. All the while, Arya followed his movements with her hand. His speed wasn't supersonic. Then she loosened her hold on him a little bit and let the energy flow into her. "Now look at me," she said. Peter did so, and she held up her index finger. Arya twirled it in the air, and it moved in circles so fast that Peter might not have been able to see it anymore.

Using the power in only one small part of her body sent vibrations down her arm. Arya was quite unaccustomed to the feeling, and had to let go of Peter completely before the vibrations reached her stomach. Otherwise, she might have puked.

Peter stared at her, dumbfounded. "That's so cool," he said and, after a while, added, "But please don't do it to me again."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Arya replied tiredly, her hands plopping back down onto the armrests. A migraine erupted at the back of her head, and she did her best to fight it off. Peter had asked a question. "What?" Arya blinked repeatedly to remove the black spots from her vision. "Sorry?"

"You can do that with _every_ mutant?" Peter repeated. In a second, he was once again sitting across from her at the other side of the room.

Arya rubbed her face. "Probably, yeah."

"Well… what happens when you use it on humans?"

Arya abruptly stopped her ministrations, looking up to meet the boy Maximoff's eyes. He was earnest, probably just curious too. And because he didn't know better was the only reason Arya didn't snap at him to stop asking stupid questions. "Not very good things," she answered quietly.

Thankfully, the young man was smart enough to deduct that she didn't want to speculate any further. Or maybe he just got bored of the subject and wanted to move on. Either way, it was a plus for Arya. "Have you got a codename yet?" Peter asked, flashing to the fireplace and picking up the snow globe from the mantelpiece.

Arya watched him flip it over. "It's funny," she said, smiling slightly. "I'm the only one who hasn't gotten one yet."

"How about _Leech_?" Peter suggested. "Seeing as you practically suck another person's genes and use it for your own purposes, it makes sense, right?"

"It doesn't really sound… _attractive_." Arya frowned, thinking about the name for a moment before deciding that it wasn't for her. "No, definitely not."

"_Countess_?"

Her lip twitched up in a half-smile. "I don't seriously have that vampire vibe about me, do I?"

Peter raised his head and looked her up and down. "You're right. Not for you." He put the snow globe back onto the mantelpiece and zipped to the window at the other side of the room, looking over the view outside. "_Breach_?"

Arya's eyebrows furrowed together involuntarily. "Why _Breach_?"

"You break into a mutant's body and breach through their immune systems like a dang virus," Peter replied casually. "It's catchy too, isn't it?" He looked at Arya over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

"It is." She offered a small smile and said, "I'll consider it. Any other ideas?"

"_Eve_," Maximoff said. He disappeared from the window and reappeared in the TV room, sitting on the sofa and flipping through the channels, as he had done only minutes prior. "I think it's sort of self-explanatory."

"Not really…" Arya trailed off. "So, why _Eve_—?"

"When God banished Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden, Eve eventually gave birth to the first human civilization. They strived. They _adapted_."

Arya frowned. "You read the Bible?"

"I have a lot of free time." That answer was obvious, but Arya hadn't expected him to _read_ the _Bible_ during his free time. She expected him to play video games and eat and sleep and exercise and play darts. He must have just gotten bored though because, as she recalled the number of stolen items he had in his room, he didn't seem to be very religious.

Looking at him in a new light, now, Arya inclined her head. "How about you?" she asked.

"What about me?" retorted Peter, not taking his eyes off the television, although Arya had to, considering he was changing the channels faster than she could blink.

"Do you have a codename yet?"

"Of course I do," he stated. "Quicksilver."

"Damn," Arya exclaimed. "That's a good one." And she meant it. "Why can't you give _me_ a good one?"

"I didn't have a lot of time to think about yours," he said. He turned off the TV and zipped back to his seat across from Arya, where he crossed one leg over the other, and his hand tapped on his calf at superhuman speed. "I think you should take _Breach_ though. Best one I've thought of."

Arya tapped her fingers inquisitively on her chin. "Alright," she drawled, though she hadn't really made her decision yet. "It's head to head with _Eve_ though. I liked that one too."

"Your decision," Peter quickly said. "But enough of that." He flashed out of the room, leaving Arya blinking in surprise. After a few seconds, he zipped back inside. When he sat down again, he had his spoon of peanut butter in his hand once more. Casually, he licked it, saying, "Tell me more about this guy we're jailbreaking from the friggin _Pentagon_."

Remembering Magneto sent her stomach boiling in rage. For years, she'd wanted to break every damn thing in the house, having to settle for them because she couldn't get to Erik and break _him_ instead. But it wouldn't exactly help Charles, with the fragile state he was in. At the back of her mind, Arya knew that some part of Charles still loved Erik as a friend. She could only wish for so much for herself.

She remembered Logan saying that both Erik and Charles had sent him back from the future. That did nothing to appease her sense loathing for him.

But, like always, she settled for a deep scowl. "Not much to say about him," she said. "Let's see; he's German, he's a maniac, he's a thief, he's set on revenge _all_ the damn time—oh, and he's a killer."

"I'd already deducted _that_," said Peter. "You don't get locked up a hundred floors beneath the Pentagon for bullying the president's son. I meant what's his name?"

"Erik Lehnsherr, but we call him Magneto." She scowled at the name; just as vindictive as its owner, now.

"_Magneto_? Is he a chick magnet or something?" Peter snickered beside her.

"No, he controls metal."

He paused. "How do you know him?"

"He used to be a friend," Arya muttered through gritted teeth. "But almost sinking every ship back in Cuba isn't exactly what you'd look for in a _friend_."

Peter's eyebrows shot up. "I heard about that," he said. "_Almost_?

Arya waved her hand. "We stopped him, of course."

"Damn. You were there?"

"How else would we have stopped him?" It was the first time Peter had gone silent that day. Arya turned and looked at him, and found him in deep thought. She smirked. "You sure you wanna go on with this?"

Peter didn't say anything for a few moments more. When he raised his head, there was this sly grin on his face. "Of course. It's not every day you get to break a maniac out of the Pentagon."

Just then, footsteps echoed behind them. All traces of bitterness and anger aside, Arya craned her neck to look over her shoulder. Turns out, her excitement was for naught.

Logan barely changed at all, except that his hair was less greasy and the shirt he wore beneath his brown leather jacket was less creased. Hank now wore a striped white-and-black shirt beneath a blue jacket. On his head was his favorite military green hat, and he wore brown khaki pants with his black rubber shoes beneath those. One word for his taste in clothes was _geeky_, but that was only to be expected.

Charles, however, was now in a black business suit. He'd shaved (_Thank the Lord._) and trimmed his unruly hair too. How he did that in less than thirty minutes was beyond her, but Arya looked at him with an approving smile. He looked the same way he did when she first met him back at the beach in Carlsbad… except for the dark circles beneath his eyes, that is.

"All set?" he said, rubbing his hands together.

As Arya was standing up, Peter zipped from his seat and reappeared beside Hank. He took Hank's hat and put it on his own head, stating, "Let's go," before disappearing down the hall. The front door opened and, in a flash of black and white, he zoomed outside, presumably heading for the car.

Hank jogged after him in a hurry. "That's my favorite hat," Arya heard him mutter to himself as he rushed out the door. Logan exhaled deeply, before trailing after them. Arya was about to follow suit, already two steps ahead when she felt a hand grab her by the elbow. Before she could protest, Charles spun her around and kissed her full on the lips.

A small whimper of surprise tore through her throat, but it was drowned out by Charles' deep kiss on her mouth. He didn't move much, but the mere feel of his lips on hers so firmly was enough to make Arya's knees buckle. She kissed him back; once, but earnestly, and he pulled away.

Their faces were still close enough to each other that their noses touched. Arya stared up into his eyes, finding the gleam in them that had been lost to her for so long.

She smiled, and whispered so that her breath fanned over his mouth like perfume. She said, "I'm so happy that you shaved."

Her telepath's laughter echoed all throughout the halls, rekindling the blaze of strength and hope within it, and within Arya. Together, they made their way outside, where the others were already waiting in the car.

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**Like or dislike? Tell me all about it in the comments below! ;)**


	25. Chapter 5 - Jailbreak

**This one's a bit short, but with action, and an old face finally makes his appearance! I sincerely hope you guys like this! ^^**

**I do not own X-Men or any of its characters. I only own my OC, Arya, and the fabricated Anything that is related to her character.**

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**Chapter 5**

Quicksilver was already waiting for them in the lobby of the Pentagon. Behind him, a large crowd of tourists were grouped together in dozens. There were four groups all in all. The tour guides stood together in a small semi-circle up front, giving the masses instructions, the do's and don'ts while walking through the hallways of the Pentagon. While they spoke, Arya listened to Hank while he briefed them of the plan.

"I made a device that can disrupt the signal waves of the security cams," he said, fingering the pouch on his tool belt. Arya assumed that his 'device' was inside. "I'll stay up here to monitor what's happening. Charles, Arya, Logan—you're going to sneak down to the underground levels. Your job is to evacuate all the personnel down there, so that Peter can walk Erik out, but I'll be activating the fire alarms for a bigger distraction. Arya, since Charles won't be able to control Erik, you'll have to stop him in case he gets frisky." Arya nodded in grim understanding, sharing a quick glance with Charles.

"Peter," Hank started. At the sound of his name, Maximoff inclined his head. "Your job is to get down to Erik's jail chamber and bust him out. It'll either be made of glass, concrete, or plastic. I sincerely hope you have a plan in mind right now."

Peter smirked slyly. "I do," he said, before disappearing from his spot in a flash of silver.

"We all understand the plan?" Charles asked, to which everyone nodded. After a moment, he added, "And no killing, alright? I don't want a bounty on our heads again like after Cuba."

Arya nodded in agreement. The weeks that took place after the events in Cuba were chaotic; the government wasn't after them, but mutant-haters hung back on almost every street. She and the others were forced to lay low for a month until the tension finally died down. But this was the _Pentagon_. This was government property. Everyone here was important, and if they killed anyone, it would be worse than Cuba.

Behind them, the tourist groups dispersed. Arya watched as Logan looked at her, and at each of the mutants surrounding him (except Peter). He nodded. "Let's get this over with."

By unspoken agreement, the four of them melded into a random group of tourists. In an attempt at blending in, Hank adjusted his hat, and Logan shoved his hands into his pockets. Arya noticed all of this and slipped her hand into Charles' twining their fingers together. "Apple-pie couple," she murmured to him.

He chuckled beside her and squeezed her hand.

Apparently, they'd picked the first group. It was either their lucky day, or Hank (who led them there) seriously knew what he was doing. Their tour guide, a curvy woman with red lips and strawberry blond hair, started them on their way deeper into the building.

Of course, Arya never expected the government to allow tourists into the more important rooms of the building. All the tour guide led them through were hallways, hallways, and more hallways. Not that Arya minded. Her brain was busy coming up with a back-up plan in case things went wrong downstairs, and a back-up plan to the back-up plan, and _another_ back-up plan for the second back-up plan.

She flexed her fingers beside her, trying to prepare them for the stress she was sure to be going into. A few minutes ago, she had let go of Charles' hand. He'd frowned in confusion at first, but understood as soon as she took her gloves off. Now, as they walked among the perfume-filled crowd, she'd practice grasping onto his mutation. Logan, who was only a little ways away from them, grunted when she tried doing it on him. It worked, though, and Arya was satisfied enough to stop after a second try. He probably just thought it was a cramp or something.

Eventually, the wall disappeared from beside them, giving way to two sets of stairs—one leading up, one leading down—and Arya was thankful that she'd decided against wearing heels that afternoon. Charles and Logan had immediately broken away from the group, leaving Hank who was to stay behind. Arya gave the young scientists a quick pat on the shoulder, to reassure him, before trailing after the other two.

They must have rushed down seven flights of stairs. Arya assumed that the Pentagon had elevators, but it was for Peter to use, not them. After all, he was the one who was going to travel down a hundred floors. But he did have supersonic speed and senses as a mutation.

Their shoes clacked noiselessly against the marble floor. When they passed by a trash can, the three of them discarded their tourist pamphlets and shoved them inside. They walked down an all-white hallway smaller than the ones upstairs and without framed pictures or documents on the walls. Arya was vaguely aware of the security cameras hovering above them, but she ignored them and focused on walking faster.

At the back of her head, she hoped that Hank had already turned a dial on his device or something.

Half a dozen flights of stairs later, the mildly wide hallways became even narrower. The ceilings grew low. Logan, who was the tallest of the three, was required to bow his head slightly in order to stride through. Arya was forced to the back of the group, considering how tight the space was. Charles and Logan walked stiffly ahead of her, and Arya gave the professor's mutation a light squeeze in order to calm him. His shoulders sagged forward the slightest bit.

Before Arya could muster a smile, alarm bells sounded all across the hall. There was a doorway at the end of the hallway, where loud exclamations and noisy pans sounded, accompanied by the music of sprinkling water.

Charles was the first to rush inside.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!" he started, sliding past a cook who was soaking wet. Arya switched the imaginary button in her head to _autopilot_. It was then that she noticed two guards from across the room were nearing them, and she flexed her fingers.

"This is a code red situation," Charles continued. "We are evacuating the entire floor so that we—my, uh, associates and I can secure the prisoner—"

"Who are you?" one of the guards demanded. Neither of them looked very bulky. And beside her, Logan looked like he was seconds away from throwing the first punch.

Charles shifted awkwardly in front of her. "We are, uh, Special Operations CB-FB-CID." Arya gawked at the telepath, gritting her teeth. The guards didn't look convinced. "Look, perhaps you didn't…"

From the corner of her eye, Arya noticed Logan clench his fist. "Calm down," she muttered.

"—we are in complete lockdown situation," Charles was saying.

Logan's hand loosened up. "Too late," he said. Arya blinked, opening her mouth to tell him another thing but he'd already sprung from his spot.

Taking a long stride forward, he slammed the crook of his wrist into one guard's chest, making him double back and gasp as the air was knocked out of his lungs. While the other guard was busy trying to draw his gun, Logan snatched two frying pans from a nearby cooking stand and swiped the guard's legs out from beneath him. The guard flipped, and Logan finished him off by hitting his jaw.

The first guard—the one with the now cracked sternum, Arya imagined—was just straightening up when Logan struck his cheek with one of his pans. Logan grabbed the guard by his shoulder and pushed him over the cooking stand. It fell sideways beneath the guard's weight, and sent them both tumbling to the floor.

Arya took in the scene with a tiny smirk. Beside her, however, Charles gaped at Logan like he had somehow turned into an elephant.

Logan stared at the professor cynically. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "Were you finished?"

A quiet snicker escaped Arya's lips. She brought a hand up and pretended to scratch her nose. Charles didn't notice. Logan did, though, and he threw her a small smirk before turning around. Charles rushed forward and knelt by one of the guards, sifting through the loops in his belt before he pulled out a wand-like thing. Arya assumed it was a key of some sort. She followed Charles to the closed doorway at the end of the room. Beside it was a panel with a key-shaped hole on it. Charles slipped the key in and twisted.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking over his shoulder to address Logan. "I'm just not very good with violence." Arya silently agreed.

Then, there came a quiet _ding_ from within the doorway, making the professor whip his head around. The doors opened like an elevator, revealing the one face Arya had grown acquainted with and the one face she wanted to break in with one of her trophies from Carlsbad.

"Charles?" Erik said, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Before Arya could hit him, Charles did it first.

She barely had time to step back when he pulled his arm back, only to bring it forward again and punch Erik square in the jaw. The sheer force of his hit sent him tumbling into the elevator, while Erik collapsed onto the floor. Logan started forward, but otherwise made no other move to hurt Charles. Rage boiled up inside of Arya, but none so worse than Charles'. She decided that her retribution could wait.

She tore her hateful eyes away from Magneto and instead looked to Peter, who hung back by the corner with a plain look on his face. Behind him, a man was stuck to the wall, cocooned by duct tape and his mouth taped over. Arya looked Peter over in approval. "Nice job, Quicksilver."

He inclined his head. "Pleasure." Arya grinned.

Meanwhile, Charles had wandered over to where she stood, leaning against her as he cradled his knuckle. Arya looked down at it in concern, noticing the slight discoloration that had appeared.

"It's nice to see you too, old friend," said Erik. She refused to look at him."And walking!"

"No thanks to you," Charles said bitterly. Arya took his hand and stroked the bruised area until he unclenched his fist. It tightened around hers slightly when Erik stood up.

"You're the last person in the world I expected to see today," he stated.

"Believe me, I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to." Charles snarled, and Arya had the better sense to let go of his hand before he told her to. "If we get you out of here, we do it _my_ way. No killing."

Erik gestured to his head and raised an eyebrow. "No helmet."

Arya tuned both of them out, stepping out of the elevator to stand beside Logan. With pricked ears, she listened past the water sprinklers and fire alarm for footsteps. There were none… yet.

Behind the two arguing mutants, Peter stood by the tied-up guard with an intense scowl on his face as he listened in on Charles' and Erik's conversation; though if Arya had to guess, he was just doing it for kicks. "Peter," Arya called. He zipped from his place inside the elevator and was in front of Arya in a millisecond. "You don't happen to have super-hearing as well as super-speed, do you?" asked Arya.

The young mutant scoffed. "Who needs super-hearing when you can have super-speed? That's stupid."

Then right at that moment, the footsteps came.

Arya pushed past Peter and made Charles turn and look at her. "We need to leave," she told him sternly. "_Now_."

Just as the word escaped her mouth, the doors at the other end of the room burst open. "Nobody move!" came the command. Five or so guards rushed into the room, followed by five more, their guns already trained on the five mutants standing by the elevator. "Hold it right there!" the point guard yelled, making Arya freeze. As slow as she might, she brought her hands up to her head and turned around. None of them pulled a trigger. Arya hoped they couldn't see the symbols on her hands, because they would have thought they were offensive.

It sucked that she was in front of all her other _male_ companions, for now all the guns seemed to be pointed at her. The bullets weren't metal either; she couldn't use Erik's power. Hank's assumption earlier that day had been wrong, for Charles' mutation was still dull. Arya could use Logan's, but there was no way she could get close enough to any of the guards' guns before they fired.

_Peter,_ whispered Arya's brain. Her eyes flicked left to right, but she didn't turn her head. Where was he?

"Charles," demanded Erik. Arya resisted the urge to tell him to shut up and racked her brain for a plan.

"Hands up!" the point guard ordered. "Or we _will_ shoot!"

"Freeze them, Charles," Erik said.

"I can't," came the professor's reply. His voice broke, and Arya took a small step back.

The point guard adjusted his gun so that it was undoubtedly pointed at her now. "DON'T MOVE!"

"_Quicksilver_," Arya muttered through her teeth. "Any time now."

Before she received any sign of acknowledgement, the objects in the room started shaking. Not all of them, though. Arya's heart dropped. _Everything metal_.

Everything that happened afterwards happened in a matter of seconds.

She shouted at Erik the same time Charles did. She spun around and grabbed his hand, because it was the only thing that was left bare. Her wet hair clung to his face, and his eyes flickered down to look at her. She glared up at him, stopping his mutation in its tracks. All around her, metal pots and pans and spoons and knives flew up into the air, but they didn't shoot themselves towards the humans. Gunshots rang out. Arya felt a spike of heat travel into her palms and up her arms. It wasn't Erik.

Four bullets zipped past Arya's head, making her flinch instinctively. Grunts of pain and noise of pots and pans landing on the floor reached her ears. She whipped around, only to find all ten guards lying on the floor. The kitchen was a mess, but past all the water droplets and spilled sauces—was Peter.

He stood at the other end of the room, standing lamely with his earphones placed in his ears. Arya was fairly sure that he wasn't standing there seconds ago, but behind her and the others. She was sure that he hadn't a cap on before either. He unceremoniously pulled his earphones out, looking at the four of them with inquisitive eyes.

It was then that Arya noticed her hand was still gripping Erik's; rather tighter than she'd intended. She let go immediately, glaring at him for a second more before turning her attention to Charles. "You alright?" she asked.

Her telepath glanced at her, breathing heavily but mustering up enough mettle for a small smile. "I'm fine. You?"

"Couldn't be better," answered Arya sarcastically, earning her a quiet chuckle before the professor let her be, starting towards Peter (or the door). Arya turned around and found Erik staring down at Logan's claws, which he must have unsheathed during Quicksilver's save.

Logan glared after the metal-manipulator as he walked away, but otherwise sheathed his claws. "Let's get out of here," he muttered to Arya, not even giving her a sideways glance before he strode past. She stayed where she was, staring after the three men that barely gave Peter the thanks he deserved.

When the two of them were the only ones left in the room, Arya walked up to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He blushed, and Arya smirked. "Don't tell Charles I did that," she said.

"Never," he answered, laughing lightly.

Arya chuckled and nodded for the exit. "Come on. Let's get out of here before more guards show up."

"I'll just kick their asses again."

She grinned. "I don't doubt that."

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**Quick note: I read every one of you guys' reviews, and they always make me so happy! EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM. To those who have been with this story since the beginning and have stuck with it, cheers to us! And to those who have just finished up with Breach and arrived here, cheers to you too! Not one of your reviews have been ignored - I cherish each and every one of them - and to those Guests who have reviewed, thank you! I can't reply, but if you would make an account, then you'll see that I always make it a point to reply to your reviews, each and every one. ^^**

**Again, kudos, and I hope you guys have an awesome day!**

**(If anyone's wondering where all this came from, I just celebrated my birthday and was given a reminder that I need to be thankful for anything that comes my way. I am thankful for being blessed with wonderful readers such as yourselves. Remember, be thankful!)**

**And don't forget to leave a review! x'D**

**Lots of love,**

**~ellesmer**


	26. Chapter 6 - Flight Plans

**I MISSED THE LAST UPDATE. I KNOW. We had an out-of-town thing and there was no wifi at the place we were staying in, so...**

**Anyway, as payment for that, I'll be putting up two chapters today; however, that also means that the next update won't be coming for at least a week or so; sorry for that.**

**In other words, I made sure to add some cute stuff here just to lighten the mood a bit. The story's starting to get a bit dark, especially talking about the future and how none of us still know what I'm going to do with Arya... Damn.**

**ALL RIGHTS GO TO FOX AND MARVEL. EXCEPT FOR ARYA. SHE'S MINE.**

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**Chapter 6**

Sometimes Arya forgot just how rich Charles was. That is, until he went on and booked them a flight to Paris in his private plane. (Arya didn't even know he _had_ a private plane.)

As soon as they'd gotten out of the Pentagon, Charles drove them back to the Institute, insisting that they get a change of clothes first before flying to Paris; however, under his orders, Hank, Logan and Peter were the only ones who went inside. Charles, Arya, and Erik stayed inside the Impala. (It was a miracle all six of them fit inside the tiny vehicle.) Arya asserted that she was fine watching Erik by herself while the others retrieved a dry set of clothes. It was true, too.

"And I don't want Hank sifting around my closet," she'd added, glancing at the scientist. "No offense."

"None taken," he'd replied.

She wondered why Charles couldn't watch Erik by himself. Surely Hank's serum had worn off by then? She decided not to ask, because it seemed rude, and it also seemed rude to leave her boyfriend in a car with a homicidal ass, so she stayed; not before saying that Peter would be the one to pick out her clothes.

"He's got fewer intentions than Hank." Arya shrugged. "I only met him a few hours ago."

"True," the teen agreed. "I'm not that kind of guy either. Pervs are gross."

Arya smirked at the others' raised eyebrows. "See?"

Charles wrapped his arm around her shoulders and murmured into her ear—"You're sure?"—to which she squeezed the crook of his elbow.

"I'm sure."

So there they leaned against the sides of Logan's Impala, staring up at the house and giving quick glances over their shoulders to make sure the mutant fugitive was still in his seat inside. Arya couldn't care less if he was feeling cold because of the wet clothes; they all were. It wasn't very cold either, considering it was already dark out. The time was 6:30 in the evening, so they would probably arrive at Paris by midnight

"So what do we do when we get there?" Arya asked her telepath. "Paris?"

Beside her, Charles was looking down at their entwined hands, nonchalantly ghosting his fingers over her knuckles. "We rent a hotel room," he answered coolly. "We get some sleep, preferably without letting Erik escape"—Arya's eyes flickered to the sulky mutant sitting in the car—"and the next day, we intercept Raven at the Paris Peace Accords. No problem."

"_'No problem'_?" quoted Arya, raising an eyebrow at him. "Are you so sure about that?"

"Yes." He brought their hands up and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckle. "I'm positive that our combined prowess will win out, in the end."

"What if Smiley Face over here screws us over, just like in Cuba?" She glared at Erik through the car's tinted window.

"Then you'll overpower him," Charles said softly. "Just like in Cuba."

Arya rolled her eyes. "I almost didn't, you know. It would have been so easy for me to have blacked out sooner rather than—"

He cut her off with a quick kiss. Once he pulled away, Arya scowled at him half-heartedly. "Stop doing that—" He kissed her again. "It's not fair—" And again. "They can see us—" And again. "_Erik_ can see us—"

"I don't care," Charles murmured breathlessly against her lips. "Let them see how much I love you."

Though the words flattered Arya to no extents, she scolded him playfully. "_Charles_." When he still didn't stop, she gave the side of his stomach a quick jab, knowing it was his only tickle spot. He was forced to move away.

"_Arya_," he exclaimed loudly, but laughed nonetheless.

He made a move for another kiss again, but Arya was quicker. She tickled him again, and he took several steps back, folding his arms across his stomach. "Stop!" he said, a wide smile on his face.

"_You_ stop," Arya playfully retorted, holding two of her fingers out to him as a threat.

"Alright, alright!" Charles held his hands up in a gesture of peace, and she did the same.

Just then the main door to the mansion flew open. The same time Arya's finger twitched, Peter had flashed in front of her, holding a set of neatly folded clothes in his hands. "Having fun, are we?" he said. Arya took the clothes from him before glancing over his shoulder, sharing a knowing grin with Charles. Peter zipped away from the both of them and reappeared in the shotgun seat of the Impala. Erik blinked in surprise, but Quicksilver handed him his set of clothes as well.

Charles glared. "I sincerely hope those aren't mine."

Arya looked to him and scoffed in agreement, before saying, "I'll just get changed."

He nodded once. "Of course."

She turned away from him and started towards the mansion, where Peter had left the door open. Just as she'd stepped onto the porch, Logan appeared from the darkness of the interior of the house, followed by Hank.

"No, no, no," Logan said, putting his heavy hands on Arya's shoulders and redirecting her to the Impala. "We need to leave."

"But I have to get changed—"

"So do I, and so does he." Logan jerked his chin to Hank, who had rushed ahead of them and was already opening the backdoor of the Impala. "You'll get changed once we're on the plane."

"What's the hurry?" Arya frowned.

"Haven't you noticed? It's late." Logan gruffly let go of Arya's shoulders once they were in front of his car, and got into the driver's seat.

"You're joking. We've still got plenty of time!"

Logan rolled his window down and stared Arya down. "Just get in the car."

She didn't argue for much longer. She didn't want to feel stupid afterwards for having a fight with him about changing her clothes. He was right; it could wait. She just wished none of the boys decided to turn on the air conditioning on the way to the airport.

Once inside the car, Arya placed her forehead against the window and attempted to calm herself. Hank sat to her right, the only thing standing (_sitting?_) between her and Erik, and probably the only thing that kept her from elbowing the metal-manipulating mutant in the jewels. Charles, Peter, and Logan sat up front, with the telepath muttering directions to Logan, who was driving.

* * *

Arya closed her eyes and tuned everything out, praying she'd be able to get through the next two days without killing anyone.

The private plane was bigger than their X-Jet, which Arya found odd (yet cool) because Charles wouldn't have invited more than ten people inside. She thought there must have been a kitchen inside, maybe bedrooms too if the interior was as big as it looked from outside.

She stared up at it as Charles and Hank said their goodbyes and thank you's to Peter.

"Peter," the professor started. "Thank you very, very much. You take care."

The young mutant disregarded his thanks with a shake of his head. "I saw your flight plan in the cockpit," he said as Charles shook his hand. "Why are you going to Paris?"Arya watched as Charles shared a knowing look with Hank.

"Just to visit a friend," said Charles, lying smoother than Hank would have. Peter nodded in understanding, but said nothing else. Hank started forward and gave him one of his more solid pats on the shoulder before following Charles up the movable flight of stairs to the plane.

Arya met Quicksilver's eyes, and he smirked cheekily, his dimples showing. She smiled back with eyes gleaming. "Don't get into too much trouble, alright?" she told him. He gave her a mock salute, clacking his feet together and schooling on a professional look on his face. Arya returned the gesture with equal vigor, before turning around and marching up the steps.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Charles and Hank halted in front of her, making her stop as well. Charles fished something out of his pocket, turned around, and threw it. Peter caught the ring of car keys, a surprised look on his face. "Do me a favor and return it for me," said Charles.

Peter blinked once. "'Kay."

"And Peter?" The young mutant looked up. "Take it slow."

When Charles had turned his head and resumed on his way up the staircase, with Hank trailing behind him, Arya stopped in her ascent and looked over her shoulder. Peter gazed up at her questioningly. She mouthed the words _our little secret_ to him, tapping a finger to her cheek. He bobbed his head vigorously, sending her a thumbs up, which she returned with a smile before finally turning away and disappearing from his view into the cockpit.

* * *

As it turned out, there was no kitchen inside the plane. No bedrooms too, but Arya doubted she would have been able to lie down without puking out her breakfast either.

Flying still made Arya sick, but after going through a warzone in the X-Jet, being in a plane was a piece of cake—rocky, turbulent-filled cake. Even with Charles' fancy technology installed in the plane's interiors, gaining altitude was still a bumpy ride. Like in Cuba, Arya dug her fingernails into the armrests for five whole minutes until the plane finally steadied, and even then there was still instability. It was already half an hour into the flight when Arya finally mustered up enough courage to stand up. Her knees buckled and nausea crept into her head like daisies, but she pushed through, holding her set of clothes against her with one hand and using the other to steady herself by gripping any corner that was nearby.

Hank was at the head of the cockpit, the only pilot driving, but he was more than suitable anyway; Arya took comfort in that. She passed by Logan, who stared at her with curious eyes, and Charles, who offered his help but she waved it away with a slurred tone; however, when she passed Erik by, she didn't acknowledge him. Not even once. Not even a glance from the corner of her eye.

Once she was finally inside the bathroom, the first thing her eyes came in contact with was the mirror. Her face had turned a disturbing shade of white, making the dark circles in her eyes more prominent. She looked like a ghost. And it was unfortunate that seeing her face like that only made her want to puke more.

Arya rushed to the toilet, kneeling as she pushed the seat up. _Thank God this is a private plane,_ she thought to herself, closing her eyes tight as her stomach gurgled. Bile rose up to her chest, and Arya forced her face closer to the toilet water. _This is disgusting._ She only ever threw up twice in her life; once, when she was still a child and she'd gotten a super high fever; and another time in Carlsbad when Chloe and her had eaten some bad burgers. Neither were very good memories to think of.

It had been a long-time coming too. Arya had hoped that it wouldn't happen in a bathroom of her boyfriend's private plane, but there she was, rocking on her knees on the cold floor and attempting to swallow back the bile, no matter how gross it was. (She didn't want to think of where the toilet water went whenever people flushed.)

After a minute of gulping down her own saliva, it was finally safe enough for her to stand up again. The plane had stopped rocking only a few moments ago, but Arya leaned against the sink and collected her thoughts. Just then, a cold draft of air hit the nape of her neck, and she shivered. She raised her head and found a tiny vent of air conditioning right above her, directed at her, no less.

She wrinkled her nose as the icy air continued blasting against her face, but ultimately decided to change her clothes before she caught a cold.

In fact, she had just slithered into a decent pair of pants when she heard a shout from outside. "… I will give you a fight!" It was Charles. In the background, Arya was able to separate his voice from Logan's. Because Logan might have yelled "Sit down", but she couldn't be sure. The only thing she was sure of was the fact that, as she pulled her blouse over her head, Charles continued his rant.

"You abandoned me!" he was saying. Arya started buttoning up the collar of her blouse, but her hands shook in her panic. "You took her away and you abandoned me!" Her heart dropped. _No._ She was sure now that it was Erik he was shouting at, and it was Erik's tactics that finally made him snap.

A low voice replied, and it wasn't Hank, nor was it Logan. That was when the plane started rocking again. "… All dead!" _Erik._

Then the plane tilted to the side.

Arya lost her balance. She was sent tumbling out the door, where she landed on the wall on her back. Unfortunately, there was a rather sharp corner on there where the pantry door was attached. It collided with the space between her shoulders, sending a dizzying amount of pain up her spine and into her head. Her vision turned fuzzy.

"Countless others experimented on," Erik continued. "Butchered!" Arya pulled her gloves off, barely keeping from sliding into the cockpit.

"Erik!" yelled Hank. Arya kept one hand glued to the wall.

"Where were you, Charles?" Erik raised his voice. "We were supposed to protect them! Where were you when your own people needed you?" Above her, the ceiling groaned and crumpled slightly. "HIDING!"

Charles finally lost his balance and slid onto the table behind the cushioned chairs, where he hung on for dear life. Arya stretched her arm towards Erik, palm outward. Plates and table napkins and glasses skimmed down the narrow hall and into the cockpit. Hank struggled to right the plane, pressing buttons and flipping switches. Arya finally got a grip on Erik's mutation. She breathed heavily in exertion, clenching her hand into a fist because nothing seemed to be happening. The plane continued shaking. Arya grunted as she let Erik's mutation flow into her own veins. She crooked her feet around a table leg and pointed her now free hand towards the floor.

She did all this whilst fighting against Erik's mental defenses.

"You _and_ Hank," said Magneto, "pretending to be something you're not!"

"Son of a bitch," Arya hissed through gritted teeth. The lights in the plane sputtered. Erik stopped fighting against her, and his walls turned soft. She took the opportunity to plant herself into the deepest parts of his brain; but she did not will what happened afterwards.

Images flickered to life in her mind.

_Raven, her face contorted in laughter as she threw a pillow, which Angel caught. Emma, sitting across Riptide. The raven-haired man murmured something into her ear, and the corners of her lips twitched up in a half-smile. Azazel, beating everyone else in a game of hide-and-seek which, of course, Raven had initiated._

_ Erik, sitting on the foot of a bed with Raven in front of him. They shared a kiss, and Erik whispered against her lips: "Beautiful."_

The flashbacks stopped there and Arya gasped, her mind spinning as it recovered from the sudden onslaught of information.

She was still leaning against the wall with her foot stuck to the table leg. Charles was standing upright, now. Erik had not moved from his spot; the same went for Logan. Arya could hear clicks and clacks of buttons being pushed as Hank struggled to get them back on track. The last thing she noticed was that the floor was even, now. Arya's hand was still pointed at Erik, and she dropped it as soon as she realized this. Erik had been staring at her, but he stopped after a few seconds, once again turning his cold gaze to Charles, who had not discerned what had happened. How could he have? It had all been inside Arya's head.

"You abandoned us all," Erik said, and Arya could hear that the fight had gone out in him.

Charles made the first move. He stood up from his spot on the portable lunch table and walked toward the cockpit. Passing by Arya, he stopped, as if he hadn't known that she was practically spilled out of the bathroom door and into the corridor. The professor knelt beside her immediately.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine." But she really wasn't. She had a growing concern that her flight out of the bathroom had given her a rather large, elongated bruise. Charles didn't need to know that though. It seemed he had enough troubles as it was. So Arya returned the question—"You?"

Her telepath shook his head, not meeting her eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. When his voice broke, Arya's hand shot up and she cupped his cheek.

"Go into the cockpit with Hank," she told him softly. "I'll deal with things back here."

His frown was immediate. "You're sure?"

_Not really._ "Positive."

As expected, he had a moment of hesitation. However, when Arya was the one to shove him back on his feet and further down the corridor, he didn't question her for much longer. Only when he was safely seated on the co-pilot's seat did Arya pull herself onto her feet. Miraculously, Logan had been able to get a conversation going between him and Erik. It was cold, though, and Arya decided that she didn't want to get in the middle of it. She took her seat on one of the cushions closest to the cockpit and decided to listen in.

"So you were always an asshole," Logan was saying as he sighed, lighting his cigarette.

Erik was already facing him. "I take it we're best buddies in the future?" he said.

Logan chuckled. "I spent a lot of years trying to bring you down, bub."

"How'd that work out for you?" asked Erik in that annoying, smug tone of his. Arya clenched her fist beside her, but made no other move to attract his attention.

"You're like me," Logan said, looking out the window. "You're a survivor." Then he seemed to change his mind and he gestured to the mess on the floor. "You gonna pick all that shit up?"

Arya smirked.

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**Don't forget to review! OuO**


	27. Chapter 7 - Talk of Today and Tomorrow

**Chapter 7**

The time was 10 o'clock. Arya had been able to avoid conversing with Erik for almost two hours. She took pride in that.

Currently she was sitting on the side-couch with Charles. He had returned from the cockpit only thirty minutes after him and Erik's… _argument_; probably because the psychopath himself had taken Charles' place beside Hank. Whether the young scientist was afraid to be driving a plane beside a homicidal mutant, Arya didn't know. She was just thankful Charles had calmed down enough to take his mind off recent events. He sat with one arm wrapped around her shoulders and her head leaning against his shoulder. A book was lain out in front of them on the table, but only Charles was actually reading it. Arya was trying to collect her thoughts, staring out the window and into the dark clouds as she did so.

What had happened? She knew enough that Erik had somehow made Charles lose his temper (or he just really had it coming), and then Erik had retaliated in the most dangerous way possible given the circumstances. She had been changing in the bathroom when it happened, and once she was spit out onto the corridor, she stopped the maniac from landing their plane in the middle of the Atlantic.

Another job well done for Arya Jacobs, professional superhero in training.

But aside from all that, what had _happened_? She had connected with Erik's mind, something she'd never intended to do in the first place but it happened anyway. She always had to make some sort of spiritual contact with another mutant in order to halt or use their powers; it was what the symbols on her hands were for. But it had never happened _like that_. She'd never been able to read and project her thoughts into that mutant's head.

Of course, it was different with Charles. His mutation consisted of exactly that. But Erik's powers enabled him to _move metal_, not scare people off with memories of his past.

Then Arya remembered a moment they'd shared back in Cuba.

They had been standing on the X-Jet's wheels beneath the undercarriage, their hands gripping the others' tightly as they struggled to stay aloft the aircraft. Below them was the sea, and Erik had his free arm outstretched, scanning the water for the submarine that contained Shaw and his allies. Erik had found it in no time, but pulling it out of the water was another thing entirely.

Arya had been there to help him, but even with her help, they couldn't lift it. Then Charles' voice echoed in both of their heads; he said, _"Remember: the point between rage, and serenity."_ At that time, Arya didn't know what he'd meant by that. She only ever came close to understanding when they'd put up the school, and despite the fact that she was a teacher, Charles still gave her private lessons from time to time in order to hone her skills.

He'd repeated the same words to her over and over again until she was finally able to master her mutation.

But there was still that moment, with her and Erik standing beneath the undercarriage. When Charles had spoken to him telepathically, she'd somehow been able to hear as well. Was it because Erik's mutation projected from his mind and Arya had to latch onto it in order to use it for herself?

If that was the case, then the images Arya had seen in her head earlier weren't random. They weren't wishes or dreams that Erik wanted to come true. They were memories.

Reaching this conclusion, Arya couldn't help but to flick her eyes over to Erik. He sat across from Logan in his table. An hour ago, shortly after their brief conversation about survival and assholism, Erik had engaged in a milder discussion. About what, Arya couldn't care less. But she looked at him in a different light now; of course, she still hated his guts for stealing Raven away and hurting Charles, but now she knew that he really did care.

For mutants, for Raven.

Arya just wished that his methods of helping weren't so violent.

Beside her, Charles made a move to flip the page on his book. Arya shifted in her seat to make it easier for him, but doing so made her shoulder blades press against his arm. Pain flared up her back and, once again, to her head. It wasn't much worse than the previous time it happened, how she'd gotten the bruise in the first place, but it still sent stars dancing before her eyes.

"Still bad?" asked the professor, paying his book no heed now as his eyes roamed her face.

She sighed weakly. "Just a bit."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Gingerly, he pulled his arm away from her shoulders, doing so as if one touch would scar her for life.

Arya pursed her lips. "You can't exactly put ice on it, what with all the other people here," she muttered to him, smiling slightly. "I'd have to strip my top off, and—"

"You're right," Charles cut her off. "Forget I said anything."

Arya frowned deeply. He was still very sensitive about _those_ kinds of topics. Though it should have been the other way around, really, considering Arya was the one with the harmful touch (with humans, anyway). But she respected him, and he respected her as well. Neither of them broached the subject unless both of them wanted to. But then she remembered what he'd asked for in return for agreeing to go after Raven, and she smirked.

"We'll have to talk about it sometime, Charles," said Arya, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

He didn't meet her eyes. "And why is that?"

She raised her head from his chest, looking up at him and schooling on a pout. "You don't remember what you asked for?"

Charles rolled his eyes playfully. "What ever _in the world _are you talking about—" He paused, his eyes glazing over in understanding. "_Oh_."

"That's the same thing I said, after you so _gentlemanly_ told me about your request." Arya chuckled, because the reality was: he hadn't used any kind of communication at all when he said it. It surprised even her that he would forget, but she supposed that he had more important things to think about than their plans for the future.

"I remember now," said Charles, his lips turning up in a cheeky smile. "Thank you for reminding me." He kissed the top of her head, and Arya closed her eyes, savoring the moment.

"My pleasure." The throbbing in her shoulder blades stopped.

Unfortunately, their moment was cut short when Arya saw Logan nod at them. His lips were moving but she couldn't hear what he was saying. She couldn't read lips either; but judging from the way Erik turned his head to look at them only a moment after Logan did, they must have been talking about them.

Arya subtly pulled away from Charles' chest, but didn't let go of his hand. She continued stroking his fingers with her thumb, all while giving Erik her best glare. Surprisingly, he didn't return it. The fugitive mutant turned his attention back to Logan. He seemed to ask him something, and Logan shrugged. Arya watched as Erik stood up and reached up into the overhead locker. He seemed to dig around inside for a few seconds before finally pulling something out. It was a box, a bit bigger than the tray tables. By the way Erik was careful to keep it even, Arya assumed it was hollow.

Then he unclasped it and pulled out a chessboard, and Arya already knew what he was about to do before he did it.

"Incoming," she murmured to Charles. He had previously been looking out the window, but when she said this, his head snapped down to look at her questioningly. She bobbed her head at Erik's initial direction. Charles followed her trail of sight until he saw Erik, and he sighed deeply.

"What should I do?" he asked. "I don't want him to lose control again."

"He did that on purpose," Arya told him, watching with narrowed eyes as Erik set the pieces on the board. "But it's your decision."

Charles raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "And what am I deciding on, exactly?"

"Whether to forgive him or not."

Erik was done setting the pieces, now, and had begun his slow walk towards the two. Arya straightened up defensively, even though she knew he wouldn't hurt Charles. Not while knowing what the future held. Beside her, the professor stiffened.

"Fancy a game?" Erik said, setting the chess board down on the table. "It's been a while."

"I'm not in the mood for games, thank you," Charles replied in a monotone voice, turning his head to look out the window. Arya continued to glare at Erik. And to her utter annoyance, he leaned down and snatched a glass from the hollow shelf beside their seats.

He poured himself a drink, saying, "I haven't had a real sip in ten years." Of course, he wasn't so bold as to take his seat across from Arya and Charles. He leaned against the armrest of one of the closer seats, taking a large gulp of the cool whiskey.

Moments passed in silence, with Charles staring out the window, Arya keeping her eyes trained on Erik, and Erik looking into his drink with a set jaw.

Then out of nowhere, Erik said, "I didn't kill the president."

Arya was about to burst into (well thought-out) accusations, when Charles squeezed her thigh beneath the table. It was sudden enough to make her close her mouth. She looked to Charles, and he looked at her imploringly, subtly raising his eyebrows. Arya nodded in understanding, but said nothing more. She turned her head to look out the window, blocking both Charles and Erik from her view. Her ears were still pricked.

"The bullet _curved_, Erik," said Charles.

Erik's deep voice said in return, "Because I was trying to save him." Arya's face contorted in confusion. She set her jaw, but kept her eyes on the dark purple clouds outside. "They took me out before I could," Erik continued.

"Why would you try and save him?" Charles asked.

"Because he was one of us."

Arya hated it when people dropped bombs like that, especially when she didn't know what the bomb was composed of. Maybe it was a fake, plastic; or maybe there were millions of glass shards inside; or maybe it was a water balloon, a joke. Erik's bomb was a raging fireball that forced her to stop breathing in fear of inhaling the toxic fumes.

Charles' hand loosened up on her thigh. Beside her, he exhaled deeply, saying, "You must think me so foolish. You've always said they would come after us."

Erik shook his head. "I never imagined they'd use Raven's DNA to do it."

Arya didn't like thinking much about what Logan had told them about the future. It scared her too much. And the way he always stared at her, as if she was a ghost… it gave her the feeling that she wouldn't survive as long as they would. That would probably the case though. Her mutation was to use other mutations. How would she be able to help in a world where mutants had all but gone extinct?

"When did you last see her?" asked Charles, making Arya turn her head. Try as she might, she never could stop missing Raven. She couldn't bring herself to hate her either. It was impossible to truly hate someone like her, especially after getting a glimpse behind the curtain.

"The day I left for Dallas," Erik said. And because Arya had turned her attention to the conversation once more, their eyes met.

She couldn't help but to ask: "How was she?"

Erik finally took his seat across from them, his drink still in his hand. Arya pushed down on the loathing she had for him, if only for a day or two. They needed his help, and he wasn't going to stay for long if she kept snapping at him.

"Strong," he answered. "Driven, loyal—"

Charles cut him off. "How was _she_?" he repeated, hardening his tone the slightest bit. But his voice shook. Arya pulled his hand off her thigh and gripped it tight.

Thankfully, Erik understood his question better that time. "She was…" He looked down at his hands. "We were…" His voice dropped an octave, but he trailed off. Arya stared at him curiously. When he finally looked up, their eyes met. "I could see why she meant so much to you," he finished. When Charles looked away, Erik made a move to lean forward, but Arya shot him a warning glare. She hadn't meant it in a hateful way; but he needed to know that the subject on Raven was always to be treated delicately.

Seeing as both of them were willing to put their differences aside, Erik nodded in understand and settled deeper into his seat. "You should be proud of her, Charles," he said. "She's out there fighting for our cause—"

"_Your_ cause," Charles interjected, setting his glass down. "The girl I raised, she was not capable of killing."

"You didn't raise her, you _grew up_ with her," said Erik. "She couldn't stay a little girl forever. That's why she left."

"She _left_ because you got inside her head." Charles said the words slowly, convincingly.

Erik wasn't convinced. "That's not my power," he said, scoffing lightly. Arya pursed her lips; she didn't know who to side with. Verbally, of course, she would always side with Charles, but her heart was torn. This was _Raven_. Even she could be influenced.

"She made a choice," Erik continued.

"But now we know where that choice leads, don't we?" Charles said, raising his chin. "She's going to murder Trask, they're going to capture her, and then they're going to wipe us out."

"Not if we get to her first. Not if we change history tomorrow." Erik's eyes were earnest, solemn; and even then Arya didn't know what to think about him.

She took the opportunity to cut the subject off as casually as she could. "Then we agree on something," she said, letting her lip twitch up in a small smile. Erik looked at her, surprised that she'd actually said anything. "Well, you boys play with your toys here." She nodded at the chess board. "I've never been very patient with board games anyway. _I'm_ going to chat with Logan, maybe ask a few questions about how you look like in the future." She gave Charles' nose a quick tap, and he smiled slightly.

"Do you have any guesses yet?"

"Shiny bald head," Arya quickly replied. She stood up and squeezed out of the booth, walking to where Logan sat, but not before giving Charles' hand a reassuring squeeze. He returned the gesture, and then immediately started on his game with Erik.

If Arya had to guess, he didn't want to talk with him much more.

"It's been a while since I've played," she heard Charles say.

"I'll go easy on you."

Arya quickly slipped into the booth opposite Logan. He raised his head abruptly, frowning at her in confusion. Before he could say anything, and in an effort to lighten the mood (hers as well as his), Arya raised her finger and asked, "Tell me, how does Charles look like in the future?"

Logan looked taken aback by her question, but he answered her anyway. "Uh, wheelchair, obviously—"

"Obviously."

"Really likes wearing vests—"

"As predicted."

"And he's bald—"

"Ha! I knew it!" Arya threw her fists up, grinning in triumph. "Charles!" The professor looked past Magneto, who turned his head to look at her as well. She pointed her finger at him victoriously. "You go bald in the future!" Her telepath smiled broadly, but didn't say anything. He returned to his game with Erik, both of them muttering in voices low enough that Arya couldn't hear, even in the small space they were in.

"Alright," she said, turning her attention back to Logan. "Now what do I look like in the future?" She rubbed her hands together in anticipation, but stopped when Logan looked away, his face contorted in a scowl. "What's wrong?" she asked, but still he didn't reply.

A sickening feeling settled over Arya, and she leaned forward. "You _do_ know me from the future, right?"

Four beats passed before Logan shook his head. "I don't. Some teachers mentioned your name once or twice, but never so detailed."

Arya frowned. "And Charles?"

"He talked about you a few times during his classes," he replied in a low tone. "Said you were the love of his life and all that."

Her heart dropped. Her mouth opened and closed as she struggled to find the right words, but all that came out was: "_Were_?"

Logan just shook his head and said, "I'm sorry, kid."

It was approximately five more hours until they arrived in Paris. Arya found the prospect of engaging in casual talks with Hank or Charles or Logan impossible, considering the information she'd just been given. And yes, maybe she wasn't even sure that _death_ was the only reason of future-mutants not knowing her. Perhaps she just left for another country and never returned again. But that idea seemed so outlandish. Arya couldn't think of a plausible reason on why she would leave Charles, and the Institute, forever. She'd promised.

So seeing as everything had just turned to chaos around her, she grabbed a blanket from one of the overhead lockers and lied down on the couch attached to the wall of the plane. Arya buried herself in her blanket, willing her fatigue to take over.

The last thought that occurred to her was: _Two bombs in one day. Must be a world record._

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**I apologize for this chapter being so short.**


	28. Chapter 8 - Royale (Part 1)

**ALL RIGHTS TO X-MEN GO TO FOX AND MARVEL. I only own Arya and everything related to her character.**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

_Arya stood in the middle of a cemetery. No other person or building could be seen for miles; only long stalks of grass, the dull, polluted sky, and rows and rows of tombstones. Arya didn't recognize the names, or the messages, or the dates written on them. Insects buzzed all about her but she paid them no attention. A low rumbling started in the sky, making her look up._

_ There hadn't been a column of dark clouds heading towards the cemetery, last time she'd checked. Thunder rolled over head, flashing, hurling storms down at the cities that were hundreds of miles away. Arya looked down at her feet and found a ladybug crawling on her boot._

_ She tilted her head in interest, but did not shake the little insect off. Its small, small antennas shifted ever so slightly, and it crawled off her foot. Arya frowned in disappointment, watching it disappear beneath a burrow of dirt. She stared at the hole, silently wishing that the bug would come out again so she could admire its red back._

_ The little insect stayed where it was._

_ Above Arya, lightning flashed once more, before heavy sheets of rain started falling. Arya glanced upwards and saw that the clouds had mysteriously zipped from miles away, and was now hovering over her head like a vulture. Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion when she noticed that the tempest was, indeed, shaped like a vulture; large wings spread out with its thick beak protruding from its head._

_ Rain collided with the stone tombstones, creating the eeriest noise. Arya could almost imagine the sounds to be a vulture's cawing. Once again, she looked up at the sky. The clouds were no longer shaped as a bird of prey, but of a skull; hollow eyes, gapped teeth, and disfigured chrome._

_ Her clothes were soaking wet, now. She made no move to escape back to civilization, for warmth. Arya looked down between her feet and found the hole the ladybug had burrowed into had grown into a fissure; wide enough so someone could stick their hand in._

_ Arya took three steps back, watching as the fissure lengthened so that it ran across the whole cemetery—or at least, as far as she could see. The skull-shaped tempest above her opened its mouth, and tendrils of lightning shot out like a gunshot. Thunder boomed all across the cemetery._

_ When Arya finally brought her eyes down from the sky, she saw a woman standing a few feet away from her. She would have been beautiful, Arya presumed, if only her cheeks weren't hollow; she wore no shoes, her dress was torn, and her skin was a stale grey. Her pixie cut hair clung to her neck in short strands of black. Her eyes were green._

_ "Arya," the woman said, stretching her arms out towards the girl who stood such a short distance away._

_ "Mom."_

_ Arya reached for the woman, but she couldn't seem to move her arms. They stayed pinned to her sides, and her feet planted to the ground. Thunder rumbled, and it seemed to have come from right above her head._

_ "I will see you soon," said Arya's mother. Before Arya could reply, lightning flashed and her whole body went numb. Her vision turned black, but the woman's words echoed in her head over and over and over—_

"_Soon."_

* * *

"Arya!"

Arya's eyes flew open, and she would have shot up from the sofa cushion if she hadn't seen Erik's face hovering over hers. She stared at him in confusion, her breaths coming in short pants. "Erik?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Bad dream?"

Frowning, Arya got her hands beneath her and sat up, narrowly evading Erik's towering form. She winced as she did so, the bruise on her back doing worse for her than anything she'd ever gotten from playing beach volleyball in Carlsbad. Once she was upright, she looked around. Logan sat at the same place he'd been the previous night. He had his head leaning against the window, his eyes closed, silent snores escaping his mouth.

They were the only ones at the back of the plane. Arya looked to her left and saw that Hank was on the pilot's seat.

"Where's Charles?" asked Arya, bringing a hand to her forehead. What was that dream about? Usually her dreams were very vivid, very literal. Though it wasn't a dream, really; it was a nightmare. She hadn't had one of those since her first days at the Institute, before Cuba.

Erik took his seat across from her and laced his fingers together. "Bathroom," he answered.

It was then that Arya realized that _sunlight_ was streaming through the windows, not darkness. The cabin lights were off because they were no longer needed. Arya started on her seat. "It's _morning_?" she exclaimed.

"Yes," said Erik, glancing at his right to the clock found in the cockpit. "7:23, to be exact."

"Did we have to stop for gas or something?" Arya demanded. The Paris Peace Accords was six hours away, and she didn't even know how far they were from France.

"A storm came last night just as we entered Europe," Erik said. "We were forced to land until it passed. Thankfully, it passed quickly."

"You couldn't just control the plane and keep it steady?"

He said nothing, but his eyes flickered to the bathroom, and Arya just assumed that Charles didn't want him using his powers. _Good,_ she thought, because she wouldn't have wanted it either. "Where did you land?" she asked, rolling her shoulders. A satisfying _crack_ came from the back of her neck, and she sighed in relief.

"Portugal." After a beat, Erik added, "Bought gas, and a few burgers."

Arya blinked. "And I slept through all that?"

He nodded. "Charles didn't want to wake you."

"_Charles_ didn't want to wake me. Thanks, Charles!" she called down the corridor, loud enough so that it even reached Hank. There came three knocks from inside the bathroom—_"You're welcome."_—and Arya rolled her eyes. "How long until we reach Paris?" she asked.

"Soon." The word sent shivers Arya's spine, remembering her nightmare. "We head to the Peace Accords as soon as we land. You and Logan are lucky to have gotten any sleep at all."

Erik went quiet after that, which wasn't in his character. Arya assumed that he would ask her all kinds of questions about her relationship with Charles and the Institute, but she supposed that he could care less.

As it turned out, that wasn't quite the case.

He was looking at her with beady eyes; not quite spiteful, but as if she'd done something wrong that no one was supposed to know about but he knew anyway. Arya returned his gaze with furrowed eyebrows. "What?" she said impatiently, cracking her neck again.

"I'll make one thing clear," Erik suddenly said, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned closer to Arya. Warily, she stole her face further away from him until her shoulder blades hit the backrest. "I cared about Raven," he continued. "And Angel, and Emma, and Banshee—_all_ of them. When you use my power and somehow see into my mind, you tell no one about them. They are my memories, and mine alone." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Do you understand, Arya?"

She stared at him with wide eyes. His words had undoubtedly thrown her off guard. For a moment, she struggled to find an answer. But eventually she did. "If I didn't know better," she started in a low voice, "I'd think your _metal_-heart wasn't capable of caring." When his gaze hardened, hers only softened. Very, very slightly.

"But I do know better," she said imploringly. "You may have been a complete ass to us before, and you're still kind of an ass now"—the corner of his lip twitched—"but I know that you cared about Raven, about all of us. I knew since the days before Cuba. And yes, I still hate you for what you did to Charles, to _all_ of us, but I'm willing to forgive you if you'd just stop trying to kill someone for once." She let the moment pass, before shrugging. "But yes, I won't tell anyone."

Moments passed with him just staring at her. Arya, obviously, grew awkward faster than he did, and therefore moved her gaze to somewhere else—somewhere less intimidating. For example, Logan sleeping.

"Then we agree on something."

Erik speaking and the familiarity of those words made Arya snap her eyes back to look at him. His eyes were kinder now, but still held the hardness and ferocity that had surely been there even before she met him. Arya decided to look past that, offering her hand out to him. He looked down at it uncertainly for a few seconds before shaking it.

His hands were cold.

The door to the bathroom burst open, and Arya sharply pulled her hand back in surprise. Charles stepped out onto the corridor and peeked into the cockpit. "How much longer?" he asked.

"About ten minutes," said Hank, glancing at the professor over his shoulder.

Charles nodded in understanding before turning around. Once his eyes fell on Arya, a small smile stretched across his face. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long enough to see Portugal," Arya muttered back. "And not long enough to get any of their burgers either—"

Erik's hand shot forth, missing her nose by inches. He held a paper bag in his clenched fist, and a delicious scent wafted from it. Arya snatched it from his hands and peeked inside. A large burger lay inside, wrapped with foil but juices spilled through the gaps anyway. Arya nodded at Erik in thanks, a gesture he returned, before standing up and walking to one of the booths.

She slipped inside, already having removed the burger from the bag. Charles followed in swiftly after her, but Arya barely paid him any attention, as she was more focused on finishing the delicious burger-from-Portugal before they landed in France.

* * *

Charles' plane was parked in a private field. They rented a car as soon as they walked out of the airport. How Erik could speak French, Arya didn't know. None of them asked either. They just waited patiently until the car showed up, and they filed in. Once again, it was lucky that they all fit.

Logan sat in the driver's seat, while Erik sat shotgun because he was the only one who could ask for directions. Arya, Charles, and Hank sat at the back, cramped together in the tight space. Arya was grateful that Charles had wedged himself between her and Hank; she had a feeling that the ride would be much more awkward if they'd sat beside each other, being the only girl left in the group.

It took them nearly an hour to simply get out of Nantes, and another two hours to get to Chambord. It was 10:15 now; judging by the road signs and the answers Erik received, it would take them approximately an hour to get to Paris, and that was assuming they don't get stuck in traffic. Dozens of people would be determined to get there: the politicians, diplomats, but mostly civilians who were just happy that the war was over.

"Will we make it?" Arya asked Logan.

"We will." He floored it; even though they were on a highway, her stomach filled with dread. She licked her lips anxiously, and he glanced over his shoulder. His lips twitched up in a smirk. "I told you it was a good idea to leave before you got changed."

Arya took a moment to understand what he said, before falling back into her seat. She crossed her arms, grumbling. Charles chuckled beside her and soothingly ran his hand up and down her thigh. The movement was more intimate than she had expected, and her eyes flickered over to Erik. He didn't seem to notice Charles' minstrations, and she hoped it would stay that way.

As the minutes passed, Charles started on a steady rhythm. Arya's ears twitched when she heard that he was singing. It was a calm melody, and it effectively eased her. She was just about to ask what song it was when Erik turned up the volume of the radio. The woman singing on the stereo matched Charles' tune, and Arya nestled deeper into her seat. She focused on the lyrics and found that it was quite a sad song. But she liked it.

* * *

It was 11:47, still an hour and thirteen minutes before the official senate meeting started, when the Hotel Royale finally came into view. The building was a tall thing, with pearly brown bricks making up the walls and a row of six windows in each floor. There was a rather large fountain in front of the entrance, and the block surrounding it was filled with people; a hundred, maybe more, crowded behind barricades that didn't even reach their chests. Several of the men and woman shook Vietnamese flags over their heads, yelling cheery words that Arya couldn't understand.

On the driveway, cars were lined up as soldiers in uniform and men in business attires stepped out of their vehicles. They waved their hands at the camera men who stood by the barricades, before briskly walking up the steps to the entrance and disappearing into the building.

"They're not going to let us in," Arya muttered, her eyes scanning the building for any other means of entrance.

Logan backed the car up. "Back gate," he told her.

She frowned. "What makes you think they'll let us in _there_? We're driving a _rental car_."

"Don't worry so much, Arya," said Erik, turning head to face her. "This is Paris. We're American mutants. They won't see it coming."

Arya stopped bugging them but grumbled to herself. "He's not American; he's freaking German." Charles heard and barely held back a laugh.

Once they stopped in front of the so-called _back gate_, two guards in uniform stepped forward and held their hands up. "_Cesser_," one of them called out, moving towards their car.

Before he could take a step further, Erik brought a hand up and swiped a large rack onto them. The guards flew to the side and hit the wall. They didn't stand up again. Erik brought the gates up. Without a word, Logan drove them through the entranceway and into the Hotel Royale. Logan parked the car in a secluded corner, where no one else seemed to be walking by. Erik was the first to step out of the car.

Once they were inside, he asked the desk clerk which room Bolivar Trask had reserved. The clerk was male, couldn't have been more than thirty years old. He frowned at Erik suspiciously. Arya wasn't surprised that he was reluctant to answer. None of them looked like people from the government, or the senate or anything.

But the clerk was daft. As soon as Arya threw him her most winning smile, he told Erik the directions immediately. When she had to walk by his desk in order to follow the others deeper into the building, the clerk made a move to grab her backside. Arya instinctively whirled around and shoved his hand away, but she didn't touch him for long.

Only long enough for it to sting for a few days.

She and the others followed Erik through a series of hallways and stairs, and it felt like the Pentagon all over again—except this time, the person leading them was the person they'd broken _out_ of the Pentagon.

Irony at its best.

When they arrived at the designated room, the doors were open. Subconsciously, Arya rushed forward and ahead of everyone else—ahead of Erik. The inside of the room came into view and the first thing she saw was Raven's blue form, poised on a long table and her eyes blazing with malice. Her arm was outstretched, a gun in her hand, pointed at Bolivar Trask who stood quaking by the corner.

"Raven," Arya exclaimed, not able to stop herself. It'd been so long, and it broke her heart to realize that the first time she saw her friend again, she was about to kill someone.

Raven's head snapped up, and when she saw Arya, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Arya?" she said.

Footsteps echoed behind Arya, her allies. But before any of them could make another move, Raven started, crying out in pain as she fell flat on her back on the table. Anger flared up within Arya, and she followed the cords which had latched onto Raven's convulsing body. They led to a young man in a uniform; he held the Taser, and he seemed satisfied about what he'd done, too. Then, Erik used his powers to pull the cords away from Raven and reattached them onto the soldier.

The soldier collapsed to the ground, quaking as volts of electricity shot into him.

Arya jumped onto the table where Raven lay and knelt beside her, because Charles had already taken the seat by the floor. She grabbed Raven's hand and squeezed it tight, just as Charles stroked her head in comfort. "Raven," she cooed.

In the sidelines, the device in Bolivar Trask's hand kept wailing, and it was all Arya could do not to take it from him and smash it to bits. Maybe she should have. But in her state of alarm, Raven held all her attention.

"Charles?" the blue mutant said, sounding so surprised that it might have been a whisper.

"And Arya," Arya added impishly, trying to lighten the mood. Raven turned her head to look at her, and Arya might have thought that she would laugh, but her eyes were still wide.

"We've come for you," the telepath started. "Erik and I, _together_." Over his shoulder, Logan and Hank hung back by the doorway—Hank watching Trask with beady eyes, and Logan staring down at the soldier Erik had put down.

Erik eyed Charles and Raven with a deep frown. His hands were clenched into fists. Arya narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion.

"I never thought I'd see you again," said Raven. Charles said something else in reply to her, but Arya had stopped listening as soon as she saw Erik. His eyes had turned hard and cold…

… The same way they had when Arya stopped his missiles back in Cuba.

* * *

**cliff-hanger. x'D I'm sorry. Find out what happens next week! ;)**


	29. Chapter 9 - Royale (Part 2)

**Late update AGAIN, ellesmer? **

**All of you have my sincerest apologies. Everything's been hell lately, and I've grown desperate to win this championship; all the while, trying to keep my grades up there. So yeah, an update just completely slipped my mind and now I feel guilty huhuhu**

**Anywho, how have ya'll been? I'd love to hear everything you have to say, so make sure to leave a review! ^^**

**I DO NOT OWN X-MEN OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS; I only own Arya and other OC's who may make an appearance some time in the future.**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Arya slid off the table and landed on her feet with a dull thud. But before she could even pull her gloves off, a gun—one that had previously been sitting idly on the table beside Raven's head—flew into Erik's ready hand. He moved quickly, too quick for Arya to be able to figure out where he was going to point the barrel, and then he pulled the trigger.

A single gunshot rang through the air. Fiery pain shot up Arya's left shoulder, travelling down her arm and up her neck. She fell to the ground, screaming. Instinctively, her hand shot out to hold the wound, perhaps to keep too much blood from flowing out, but her finger had only grazed it when dark circles appeared in her vision. She sobbed.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she yelled at Erik, gaining enough sense back to crawl further away from the man.

Erik barely glanced at her. In one hand, he had his fingers encircled around a tiny, silver thing. Horror filled Arya when she realized that it was the bullet he had shot into her. In the other hand, he held his gun. He was now pointing it at Charles, but behind the telepath was Raven. She looked like a cornered animal, hiding behind the professor; Arya wanted to tell her to just run, but some part of her knew that it would just make Erik pull the trigger earlier than he meant.

"Erik," shouted Charles, holding his hand up in a palliative gesture. "What are you doing?"

"Securing our future," Erik replied coldly. His eyes never left Raven, and Arya took the opportunity to pull her gloves off—whimpering when she had to move her left arm. "Forgive me, Mystique. As long as you're out there, we'll never be safe."

Behind him, Hank stood completely still. "Erik."

"Use your power, Charles," Raven implored, her voice shaking. "Stop him."

Erik's eyes were stony. "He can't," he said.

Arya's hearing had already gone dull, but she still heard that. Through the agony, she struggled to raise her arm. That was when Raven jumped to her feet and started running. From the ground, Arya watched as Erik's hand followed the blue mutant's movements.

Hank finally snapped out of his trance and rammed into Erik. His hand gripped onto Erik's wrist tightly, making the gun fall out of his hand. But Erik was relentless. He held his palm out. A second gunshot rang through the air and a bullet whizzed past Charles', barely missing his face. To Arya's right, the sound of glass breaking reached her ears. She didn't turn to see what Mystique had done. Erik's bullet continued on.

"NO!" Arya gripped Erik's mutation tight, but his mental defenses fought her. She didn't know it was possible for him to become stronger in prison, but he did. His walls were so much thicker than in Cuba. And Arya was weak. Her attempts in pushing through meant nothing. Her head snapped to the side quick enough for her to see a small, circular-headed thing falter in mid-air before flying out the window.

A hard grunt came from her left but she didn't make an effort to look there anymore. Arya lay down on the ground and curled herself around the bullet wound, gritting her teeth and trying to keep from blacking out. Beside her, she heard panting, knuckles striking bone and loud exclamations coming from familiar voices. Blood continued seeping out of her wound and onto her hand. She strained to keep her eyes open through the pain.

Beneath the table and across from her, Erik walked. There was a soft click and something grey shot into his hand. He caught it.

"You bastard," Arya hissed through her teeth, glaring up at him.

He stopped for a moment and turned to her, his face unaffected and his voice detached as he said, "Then we agree on something." His footfalls continued until he reached the ceiling-to-floor window. Then, he levitated off the ground and to the world outside.

Arya heard shouts of alarm afterwards, but she couldn't bring herself to worry about it. Her eyes were slowly drifting closed when she felt a hand grip her leg.

"Arya," came Charles' familiar voice. Her eyes shot open.

"Charles." Her voice broke. "It hurts."

"We'll get you stitched up," he said, grabbing her hand—the one she could still feel, at least—and placed it on the bullet wound. He pressed gently, and she cried out. "You have to keep pressure on it," he said, though his voice was strained.

Through the grey haze, Arya watched from over Charles' shoulder as Logan stood up off the floor. "Where am I?" he said, his face contorted in a scowl.

The professor gave him a sideways glance. "Huh?"

"How the hell did I get here?" Logan growled, advancing on the professor in uneven steps. Subconsciously, Arya opened her hand, the one she could barely feel because of the gunshot hole in her shoulder.

"What?" Charles turned to Logan, possibly just as confused as he was. "You came to us."

Logan looked completely hostile now. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Charles," the telepath answered simply, already having turned his attention back to Arya when Logan grabbed the collar of his jacket. He pulled so that he faced him. "I'm Charles Xavier!" Charles exclaimed, holding his hands up.

Meanwhile, Arya was feeling absolutely miserable. "We have to help Raven—" She stopped when another stream of blood gushed out of the wound. A sob tore through her throat. If shock wasn't going to kill her, then the loss of blood would.

Logan turned his questioning gaze to her. "Raven?" he asked. They had enough problems as it was; now they had a disillusioned and slightly homicidal mutant ally asking them questions like a damn cop. Arya banged her head against the floor in frustration. _At least the pain's lessened, now,_ she thought to herself. Yes, the pain had faded slightly. It had turned into a consistent throbbing on her shoulder that hurt maybe 30% less than before

Beside Charles, Hank stood up. Arya didn't feel the slightest bit reassured when she found that he was in his blue-ape body now. He'd learned to control himself better over the years, but that wasn't going to help them.

Logan let go of Charles and stepped back. "What the hell is that?" he yelled, his eyes going wide. Hank made a move towards him but Charles stepped between the two, keeping them from attacking each other with only his hands.

"I can deal with this," he said calmly. He glanced over his shoulder to Hank for a brief moment. He told him, "Just go. Stop Erik!"

Hank didn't question him. He ran across the room and jumped out the window. The floor shook as he was running, and Arya whined in discomfort as the tremors made her body shake as well. She was trying to keep as still as possible, but her palm was still open in case Logan suddenly turned more aggressive than he already was. (His claws were still unsheathed.)

"You're Logan," Charles was saying to him. He gestured out the window, "That's Hank McCoy," then to himself, "I'm Charles Xavier."

Logan nodded to Arya wildly. "And her?" he demanded.

"That's Arya Jacobs," Charles replied steadily. "She's a friend." (_A friend who just got shot,_ she wanted to add, but kept her peace.) "You spent the last couple of days with us." He didn't say anything else for a beat, and Logan looked to calm down the slightest bit, but Charles wasn't done.

"You're on acid," he said, and it wasn't a question. "Somebody gave you _really_ bad acid, yeah?"

Arya would have guffawed if she didn't know that doing so would hurt her, so she didn't. However, a small smile slipped up her lips and she mustered up enough strength to shift into a sitting position. Fiery pain once again shot up her head, and her vision blurred.

"Just hold on tight, we'll get through this together," Charles was saying. Arya blinked a few times, already having accomplished her first mission; the next was to lean against the leg table.

Steeling herself, she hopped her butt off the floor and moved to the right. To her relief, it didn't hurt much worse than sitting up. Arya was propping herself up on the leg table when a sliver of movement caught her eye. Her eyes flicked to the right, just behind Logan and by the door.

The soldier from before—the one who had attacked Raven and therefore was given the same bother in return—had pulled the cords off his neck and regained his footing. He ran to the door, but for some reason turned around to give the mutants one last glare. His wide eyes flickered down to Logan's unsheathed claws. The mutant turned his head to look at him as well, and they met each other's eyes, right before the soldier started his escape down the hall.

When Logan once again turned to the professor, his eyes glazed over. The slightly menacing look on his face disappeared, replaced by utter confusion. "Professor?" he said. His claws disappeared back into his knuckles.

Charles' lip twitched as he sighed in relief. "What happened to you?"

Logan's reply was too low for Arya to hear. She didn't mind.

"Where's Raven?" he asked afterwards, to which the professor shook his head.

"Gone."

"What?" Then Logan finally noticed Arya sitting on the floor, her hand and shoulder drenched in blood. His eyes widened. "What the hell happened to her?"

"Erik shot her," replied Charles. He sauntered over to where Arya sat and put his hand on her shoulder. "Can you walk?" he asked softly.

"I think so…" Arya frowned in concentration, using her uninjured arm to clench the telepath's arm and using it for leverage. "_God_!" She gritted her teeth and whimpered, "Shit…" The throbbing intensified, but she was able to get her feet beneath her.

"Sh..." Charles picked her gloves off the floor and gently slipped them back into place. He wrapped his arm around Arya's midsection, and she used her right arm to keep pressure on the bullet wound. The blood had stopped seeping through, but she had lost feeling in that arm enough for her to start worrying. "We'll get you to a hospital," Charles was saying.

She shook her head. "I don't want to go to a hospital. We'll stitch it up on the flight back to the Institute."

"Arya, if this bleeds out—"

"It will if we don't hurry," Arya interjected. She couldn't even snap at him; that was how tired she was. "Which is why we have to get Hank, get to the bloody plane, and get in the air before it _bleeds out_."

Thankfully, Charles didn't question her for much longer. Together with Logan, they started on their brisk walk down the corridors and out the building. Once outside, they were immediately greeted with camera flashes and crowds of people. They grouped together around the fountain, desperately trying to get past the rest and to their cars. Charles quickly took his jacket off and placed it around Arya's shoulders. She took it gratefully, wincing when the hard fabric rubbed against her wound. She and the other two men made their way through the crowd, Charles paving the way for her because she only had feeling in one arm at the moment. When people wouldn't move aside, Logan would bark at them and they parted like the Red Sea.

Hank was waiting for them in the car. He was still in his ape form too, but he looked no worse for wear; how he slipped past security without being shot down, Arya couldn't tell. As soon as he spotted them walking towards the car, he unlocked the doors. But when Arya shed Charles' jacket, revealing the gunshot wound, he got out of the car.

"What happened?" he asked, examining the hole closely.

He was larger in this form, and Arya stepped back instinctively, the sight of his sharp front teeth startling her. "Erik," she answered simply, blinking as he stared at the wound from a few inches away.

"There's no exit wound," he observed. "It must've got lodged in your shoulder blade—"

Arya rolled her eyes. "Yeah, or Erik just pulled it out."

Hank stared at her seriously. "You're lucky the impact didn't break into the bone, otherwise—"

"That's great," Arya cut in yet again, sliding past him and opening the door to the driver's seat. She gestured inside. "Now can we please just get to the plane so you can stitch the damn hole in my shoulder?"

* * *

The drive back to the airport was agony; not because her shoulder felt like it was being branded, but because the traffic was unbelievable.

On the highway leading from the Hotel Royale, dozens of cars were lined up and down the avenue, honking. Arya peeked from beneath the windshield, and the jam stretched as far as she could see. It took them an hour to get past that, and another two headed to the airport. It would have taken longer, but Hank was past ignoring the speed limit by then; he seemed to be trying to see how fast their car could go.

Once they were at the airport, Charles handed Arya his jacket again and they walked through the crowds of foreigners with grim faces. Arya tried to keep calm as the police dogs sniffed at her feet suspiciously. Eventually, the guards brushed them off and gave Arya the clear. She shakily trailed after the others, beginning to feel the effects of the blood loss. She felt light-headed and ready to keel over at any moment.

They boarded the plane, and Arya set herself down on the sideways couch and let her shoulder go limp. She sighed in relief. Hank rushed down the corridor and to the cockpit, where he quickly put his flight gear on. Logan seated himself across from Arya, while Charles took his seat beside her; both of them watched her with worried expressions on their faces. And though Arya knew they were just concerned, the throbbing had made her irritable. She did her best not to push Charles away.

As soon as they were in the air and turbulence had gone down to its most minimum, Hank put the plane on autopilot. He left his spot in the cockpit and strolled down the hallway. Arya expected him to stop in front of her, but he continued on until he was at the very back of the plane. There, he reached up into very last overhead locker and pulled out a med-kit. Arya stared at it wearily.

Hank must have noticed the looks she was giving him, because when he sat himself down beside her and opposite Charles, the first things he took out of the box were two small bottles. "I have morphine and antibiotics."

Arya's lip twitched up in a smile. She pulled the neckline of her blouse down, only enough to reveal the bloody wound. "Just, stick the injections in the right places, alright?"

While Hank worked on stitching the gaping hole in her shoulder closed, Arya tried to keep her mind off the sharp tugging sensation and kept her eyes away from the scientist. Charles stroked her knuckles gently from her right, and she took comfort in his warm touch.

The thought of Raven entered her mind, and it was enough to keep her distracted.

Had Erik caught her? Had he somehow successfully buried a bullet in her head? Their mission was to keep her blood out of the wrong hands, and yet where would Erik take her corpse? By then, surely the government had found out about what happened. Trask's sentinel project would continue, and he would demand for Raven's dead body. How was Erik going to keep her out of their hands then?

She felt disgusted with herself for even trusting a word that came out of his mouth. Their conversation on the plane,—where he had so _honestly_ stated that he cared for Raven, for everyone else—it wasn't true. Arya knew that now. Those memories he had shared with Arya, he probably just made those up. Friends didn't try to kill other friends.

Redemption for Arya's forgiveness had been possible before, but he'd tried to kill two important people in her life now, including a try for her own life. His redemption was long gone, out the window.

Slight turbulence shook the plane, and Arya winced as Hank's needle dug farther into her skin than necessary. He immediately exclaimed his apologies, and Arya waved him off nonchalantly.

"I'm almost done…" He trailed off, his free hand flying out to grab the scissors from the med-kit. He snipped at the dark thread he had used to stitch her shoulder up before taking out a gauze pad from the kit. Arya watched as he poured some clear liquid onto the pad before taping it against her wound.

A strong stinging sensation erupted from there, and Arya hissed. Her hand shot away from Charles' and she buried her mouth into the crook of her arm. Tears erupted from her eyes but they didn't spill. The morphine didn't help with the pain the antibiotic inflicted, and the throbbing soon returned.

Hank apologized for one last time before straightening up. "That should keep it from getting infected," he said, stowing his tools back into the med-kit.

"Thanks, Hank," Arya said earnestly. "Don't know what we'd do without you." Hank scoffed, but she couldn't tell whether he was flattered, or just didn't believe it. He went back to the cockpit and looked outside. There was more turbulence, and he had to call Charles over. Arya gave her telepath's hand a squeeze, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead before heading to the cockpit with Hank.

"You know," Logan spoke up from his seat in one of the booths. "You remind me of someone I used know." He paused. "From the future."

Arya raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What's her name?" She had no idea what he was going on about, nor why he was talking about the future in the first place. She still hadn't forgotten about their conversation the previous night, and she was sure that he hadn't either.

"We called her Rogue," replied Logan. "But her real name was Anna Marie."

_Neat name,_ Arya mused to herself, but then she frowned, noticing a tiny detail. "_'Was'_?"

"She doesn't make it." His eyes bore into hers and it was all Arya could do not to glare back.

"I'm sorry," she said half-heartedly. "Why do I remind you of her?"

"She had the same powers as you—touched somebody and suddenly it's like their mind is hers. She feels their pain, sees their memories, has the skills they possess. She was an entirely different person when she touched somebody—"

"I can only use and stop the mutations," Arya cut him off, glaring slightly. "But I'm flattered."

Logan had the smart sense to stop talking afterwards.

Shortly after that Charles walked back down the aisle from the cockpit, and Arya raised her hand to meet his. Over his shoulder, she spotted Logan looking at her with a guarded expression. She glowered at him for a brief moment, shaking her head subtly, before giving Charles' cheek a quick peck.

Her death was inevitable. It would happen before the Sentinel Apocalypse. Stopping Trask wouldn't stop her from dying. And inside, she was torn on whether she should tell Charles or not.


	30. Chapter 10 - Lost Path

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* * *

**Chapter 10**

The Institute was exactly the same as they'd left it—which was, to say, eerily quiet. As soon as Logan turned the Impala's ignition off, the soft noise of the crickets were all they could hear. Arya glanced at the car's digital clock and saw that it was 4 in the morning; she frowned, looking over to Hank and the others. How much sleep had they gotten the previous night? She knew that Logan had dozed off practically two hours into the flight, so he got a considerable amount of sleep. Charles had fallen asleep only a few minutes after Logan, followed by Arya.

She looked at Hank.

He had turned back to his normal self earlier in the morning. His eyes were glazed over in fatigue, and there were bags beneath his eyes. Arya remembered waking up the previous night to find Hank leaning back in his pilot seat. The plane must have been on autopilot, but even if he had been able to close his eyes, she doubted that his sleep was fitful.

But then again, her sleep hadn't been fitful either. Nightmares plagued her all throughout the little hours of sleep she had. More than once, she had flinched awake beside Charles, forcing him to wake up as well—time and time again. She wondered whether she should apologize to him as soon as they had a minute to themselves.

Hank unlocked the doors to the mansion and was the first to step through. Arya trailed inside beside Charles, who held her hand. When Hank had woken them up that morning to tell them that they were nearing the airport, Arya noticed that the hole in her shoulder barely hurt at all anymore. Feeling had returned there too, but she was left wondering how less than six hours of sleep could heal her that fast.

Back at Carlsbad, when she and Chloe had just finished a game and bruises covered their bodies, they'd sleep for ten hours and even then the bruises still remained. And the injury on her shoulder was much worse than a bruise.

They had just taken five steps into the mansion when Charles' legs gave way beneath him. His hand slipped out of Arya's, going to a familiar place in his right hip as he fell to the floor. A cry tore through his throat and Arya immediately knelt down to help him up. Hank aided her.

"What happened?" Logan demanded from behind them, his footfalls heavy as he rushed into the house. He was quiet for a moment, seeming to notice something, and then he said, "Why can't he walk?"

"He needs his treatment," Hank quickly replied. He and Arya led Charles to a chair by the TV room.

The professor grunted as they set him down. "Hank," he said, his voice tight with pain as he gripped the young scientist's shoulder. "I can hear them."

"It's okay," said Hank. "I'll go get it." He rushed off, and the professor's hands automatically reached for Arya's gloved fingers. She didn't deny him her comfort, gripping his hand tightly and stroking his knuckles, but she looked down at him sadly. She didn't approve of the medications Hank had gotten him addicted to, yet she hated seeing him in so much pain.

His powers used to be a sense of joy for her, for both of them. Often times they would talk to each other in their own heads. Once, Arya had shown him the most epic game she and Chloe had ever played in; where they came, where they fought, and where they won. She never heard the end of it afterwards, but she loved him for teasing anyway. It always showed that he cared. One other time, Charles had shown her a memory of him and Raven when they were little. They ran around and chased each other in a playground. Raven had disguised herself even though there was no one else around, but she looked so incandescently happy nevertheless. Another memory was where Raven brought her first boyfriend over. Charles still wasn't sure if it had been a joke or not. Raven never told him.

Arya remembered those times while looking down at Charles, who gripped her hand like a lifeline, and her heart clenched. "It's alright," she murmured to him, lowering herself so she sat by his feet. "Everything's fine." One of his hands let go of hers and went to the side of his head. An aggrieved expression took over his face as his whole frame racked with tearless sobs.

"Hey," Logan said, staring down at the professor with a deep frown. "Pull yourself together. It's not over yet."

When he said that, Charles stopped shaking. His breathing steadied and the haze in his eyes cleared up the slightest bit, though his hand gripping Arya's was as tight as ever.

"You don't believe that," he stated evenly, his eyes hard as they bored into Logan, who tilted his head slightly.

"How do you know?" he asked suspiciously. Before the professor could answer, the voices seemed to overpower him once more, and he closed his eyes tight.

"Hank's serum lets him be able to walk again," Arya answered for him. "But it does something to his genes that takes away his mutation. So when the serum wears off…" She nodded to his legs, "_Those_ go away," and then to his head, "And _that_ comes back." Taking pity on him, she let go of Charles' hand for a moment to pull one of her gloves off. When she placed her hand back on his, the crease on his forehead disappeared.

"They all come back," said Charles miserably, rubbing his temple.

Arya ran her one gloved hand through his hair, biting the inside of her cheek in anxiety. "It kills me to see him like this," she said, her voice barely a whisper. Logan couldn't possibly have heard her, but Charles gave her hand a squeeze.

Logan turned away from both of them. He put his hands on his hips as a thoughtful expression crossed his face. "Look, I'm…" He seemed to struggle to find the right words. "I'm still here." Charles heard him, but he didn't listen. He started taking his jacket off and had to let go of Arya's hand in order to do so. Arya took his jacket from him and threw it over her shoulder. As soon as it was off, her telepath reached for her hand once more.

"And _she's_ still out there," Logan continued determinedly. "But we need your help, Charles. Not like this. I need _you_."

Charles used one hand to start pulling up the cuffs of his sleeves, but they wouldn't move.

"Charles," Arya chastised him for not at least acknowledging Logan, but she didn't sound quite frustrated enough. Frowning, she once again let go of his hand and started pulling the cuffs up for him. The professor stopped in his attempts and leaned back on his chair dejectedly as the voices came back. Once his sleeves were up, Arya held his hand, but not for long—only long enough for the voices in his head to fade out so he could hear _her_ instead.

"_Listen_ to _me_, Charles," she said. She waited for him to open his eyes and look at her before continuing. "We can't find Raven, not without your powers."

Before she could say more (and she wanted to), Hank appeared from the top of the staircase. As he jogged down the steps, Arya was already eyeing the shot in his hands with despondency.

"I added a little extra because you missed a dose," said Hank as he neared them. Charles didn't let go of Arya's hand when he took the vaccine from him. His eyes seemed to glaze over; he ran his tongue over his lip as he stared down at the shot, almost like a starving man who had just been handed a perfectly cooked steak.

Logan stopped pacing behind them. "Charles," he said, practically pleading.

The professor glanced up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes; then he switched his gaze to Arya. She was still sat by his feet, her elbows resting on his knees as he gripped her hands tight, like his pillow whenever he started falling asleep while Arya was still in the room. She looked up at him imploringly. And as her hands were in direct contact with his skin anyway, she silently crept through his defenses. There were gaps in them now that Arya didn't remember seeing before, even wide fissures. Sadness filled her heart, but when she touched his mutation, everything exploded in a great black light.

Arya could hear his thoughts now. Not just his, but Logan's as well as Hank's. They were thinking, _"He's being reckless,"_ and _"That vaccine won't help him for much longer,"_ and _"He can't be lost,"_ all of which were very depressing. Yet in Logan's mind, she found a glimmer of hope—so far behind the darkness that she wouldn't have seen it if she hadn't tried.

Her spirits lifted by a newfound hope, Arya tickled Charles' mind with her own, making him flinch in surprise and look down at her with wide, questioning eyes. She regarded him with soft eyes, while in his mind, she spoke: _Please._

The violent waters in his mind seemed to slow down, not quite rapids any longer, but a lazy, shallow stream. Gurgling softly, calmly. Charles had been holding the shot to his wrist, the sharp point dangerously close to pricking into his skin. But Arya was in his head, and she watched as his mind cleared. He pulled the vaccine away from his skin and shoved it onto the wooden desk beside him.

"Hank, do me a favor," he started, his voice now firmer than before. Arya didn't let go of his hand. "Would you help me to my study, please?"

* * *

She trailed behind the professor, glancing at the silver walls around them and remembering how almost every day they would come down here to search for new students; more kids who were just like them, who needed help.

Her telepath was back in his wheelchair, and whenever Arya would open her palms out to him, his mutation burned like a newly lit lamp. She would always expect to see a dull light, barely even glowing anymore. It had been like that for seven years.

"When was the last time you were down here?" said Logan from beside Hank.

"Last time we went looking for students," Arya replied, training her eyes on the doorway marked with a silver, ceiling-to-floor _X_ at the end of the hall.

"A lifetime ago," Charles added. Arya nodded in grim agreement.

They stopped in front of the doorway, with Charles in the lead. Arya watched as the circular section in the middle of it opened to reveal a scanner. A ray of blue light shot forward and enveloped Charles' forehead. It scanned up and down his face, the light reflecting off of his eyes. _"Welcome, professor,"_ the installed woman-voice said. From the corner of her eye, Arya saw Logan's eyes widen slightly in recognition.

_Many years into the future and Hank still won't have the voice changed,_ she mused, the corner of her lip twitching up in a smile.

The middle section of the _X_ retreated deeper into the doorway before twisting to the side. Then, the door parted, revealing Hank's newly-enhanced Cerebro. After the events in Cuba, before they even started on the school, he and Charles had made haste to build a new one after the original got destroyed by Riptide. This one was much cleaner and much smoother than the last; the two geniuses helped each other out while Arya had always remained upstairs, wasting away on the phone talking with Chloe.

Charles rolled into the vast, man-made cavern. The panel waited at the end of the walkway. Arya did her best not to glance down, because she was _still_ afraid of heights (another reason why she seldom visited the place).

"Raven's wounded," said Hank, his voice cutting through the silence. "She won't be moving fast." He turned a knob on the panel, and lights flickered to life around them. Arya cagily watched on as Charles picked the helmet off the panel. He blew on the top of it, sending clouds of dust onto his lap. He didn't seem to mind.

"These are muscles I haven't stretched in a long time," he said, slowly pulling the helmet over his head.

Arya frowned. _That's exactly what I'm worried about,_ she thought, eyeing the helmet.

The lights in it turned on exactly the same time Charles stretched his mutation outward. He gasped sharply, and Arya almost stopped his mutation from branching out right then and there. Almost. Light burst all around them, surrounding the metal-tiled, circular-shaped room in a haze of black and red. The world was a universe of blood red galaxies, and mutants were the stars—twinkling, fading in and out because the humans, the dark red spots that were everywhere, abused at least five of them each minute of each day.

But it wasn't just the mutants who were crying anymore. No, now, there were humans too. Their desolated voices echoed again and again in the background, and more than once Arya had heard a laugh—a genuine, merry laugh—but it was drowned out by the despair-filled cries that were all she could pay attention to.

The universe was red. Arya knew it was supposed to be a light grey, like the first time Charles had tried out their new Cerebro.

The red haze started revolving around them, faster than the world ever could hope to. The shadowy silhouettes of the people spun like cogs in a machine, relentless until something jammed the mechanism—

All of a sudden, amidst the cries of anguish and misery, Arya heard Charles grunt from in front of her. She tore her eyes away from the dark walls, from the humans, from the mutants, and turned to him. It was too late. The compasses on the panel had already been going crazy since the beginning, but now they flew from one end to another like pigeons.

"Charles!"

He screamed, and the glass bulbs on the panel shattered one by one. Smoke wafted from the dials on the panel. The blood red universe disappeared around them, replaced by the dull greyness of Cerebro's walls, but the lights there had died too. Arya was the first to come to Charles' side.

"Hey," she cooed, even though her heart was beating erratically in her chest. She quickly pulled the helmet off his head. "You're okay."

He was sobbing, now. Arya wildly gestured for Hank to do something. He placed his hand on the professor's shoulder and gave him a brotherly kind of pat. "It's alright," he said. "I'll go check the generator." Arya watched as the scientist walked off. She sincerely hoped he wasn't upset; she didn't need _two_ upset mutants living in the same house with her.

In front of her, Charles cursed under his breath, slamming his hands down onto the base of the panel in frustration.

Logan approached them both with caution. "It's not the machinery, is it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow even though Charles couldn't see him. Arya wasn't sure whether he meant to help or to make him feel worse; the future-mutant hadn't done anything to break their bond of trust yet, so she decided to let him speak.

Charles shook his head violently. "I can't do this. My mind—"

"Yes, you can," interjected Logan, who had stepped up now and was standing across from Arya.

"N-no." Charles' voice started shaking again. "It won't take it."

"You're just a little rusty."

"You don't understand," Charles said, raising his voice. "It's not a question of being _rusty_. I can flip the switches, I can turn the knobs, but my power doesn't come from here"—he pointed to his temple—"it comes from _here_"—before moving his finger to his chest. His nostrils flared. "And it's broken."

Arya knew that he wasn't referring to her, but to Raven: he was speaking his mind, and she had the audacity to feel _hurt_. Maybe it was the stress finally getting to her, or the antibiotics, or the loss of blood, but she still hated herself for feeling that way—not when she cared for Raven just as much as Charles did. Her telepath must have noticed, too, because the grip on her hand tautened. Arya offered him a tight smile. She leaned down and kissed the top of his head—"I'll leave you two to talk."—before detaching her hand from his and turning away.

Logan sent her a questioning look, and she stopped in front of him. "Charles sent you back here for a reason: to help us help _him_." Her voice was low, and she looked up at Logan with meaningful eyes. "So _help_ him."

After a beat, the (seemingly) older mutant nodded in understanding. Once he did, Arya slipped past him and walked out of Cerebro.

Her shoes clacked noisily on the floors, echoing down the hallway and reviving the clamor that had been lost from the corridors for more than five years.

* * *

**Yay or nay? Make sure to leave a review! ^^**

**Much love, ellesmer**


	31. Chapter 11 - Eye of the Storm

**This one's a bit short, but I've got some fluff in store for you guys; hopefully that'll be enough to appease ya'll. xD**

**Also, have any of you heard of Mufti Day? (If you haven't, search it up.) I'm dressing up as Eponine. ;)**

**ALL RIGHTS GO TO FOX AND MARVEL, EXCEPT FOR ANYTHING YOU DON'T RECOGNISE.**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Logan had been able to convince Charles quicker than Arya had originally anticipated—probably with less touching too, if she stopped and thought about it.

Ten minutes, give or take. That was how long it took him.

Arya was in her bedroom when she heard the regenerator hum to life only a few minutes after she walked out of Cerebro. She was lying in bed, letting a volleyball bounce up, up, up on her fist. It had been a gift from Charles. He'd given it to her only a few weeks after they opened the school. "To keep you practicing," he had said, and then he grinned. "I'm still waiting for the day when I get to watch you and Chloe play in the big leagues."

She tried to see how that could go well for any of them, including Chloe; it wasn't like she was ever going to go public again without having to cover her face with some sort of hoodie. The government had sighted Erik that day in Cuba while he was in the undercarriage, and unfortunately Arya had the ill fate of having been standing in that same undercarriage at the same time he was. The whole world knew their faces now.

She could barely feel her shoulder injury anymore; she was starting to assume that perhaps her mutation had somehow evolved, and now it consisted of superhuman healing as well. It wasn't a bad game, and she decided to stick with that idea until she was proven otherwise.

In fact, she'd just shifted from bouncing the ball on her fist to tossing when the door opened.

Charles wheeled into her room, a downcast expression on his face. He stayed by the doorway too, and that was enough to make Arya drop the ball and jump off the bed. She went to him, concerned, and kneeling because she knew that he hated it when she stood taller than him.

"What's wrong?" she asked. When the professor still didn't raise his eyes to meet her, she leaned closer until her face was only inches away, so that he was forced to look at her. Fear struck her then, because for once in her life, Arya couldn't read the expression on his face.

"Charles." She shook him slightly. "What happened? Was it Logan? Hank?" She dared not look for answers in his mind, worrying that he would get upset. And she'd never done so before without his permission; she wasn't going to start now. "Charles, _please_—"

Then suddenly, her mind was filled with an onslaught of images—much like what happened in the plane with Erik not five days ago, but the feel of another mind touching hers was so much more gentler than with Erik's.

* * *

_Their first meeting on the beach in Carlsbad. Arya and her friend Chloe had just won their first championship. The latter had gone home, to celebrate, apparently, with the trophy; Arya was sitting on the shore, admiring her view of the sunset. "Congratulations," Charles had said in her head. It was the first time he ever spoke to her—mentally, that is. He remembered watching her from afar and thinking that she was beautiful. She had made up a nickname for Erik—_Tucker_—and he was the only one who had a laugh about it afterwards. Erik was just upset._

_ Charles also remembered, however, that Arya had only accepted their invitation because Charles had told her that he would let her walk away with complete control of her powers afterwards. He admired her for that._

_ Her first time sleeping in the Institute. Charles remembered staying awake all night, reading her dreams from afar, feeling her pain. He was with her when she went to the bar to try and forget her nightmare, but he had blinked away when she rushed to the toilet to vomit everything else; he had only stayed long enough to see Sean. He went with her to the Games Room, wishing he could keep her company and play with her there._

_ When she went outside and to the swimming pool, Charles had already pulled out of her mind before he saw anything he wasn't supposed to. But that was the night his fondness for her started._

_ Their first training session together. He remembered touching her mind for the shortest amount of time and finding so much fear, anxiety, self-pity, self-_hatred_. He made a promise to himself to help her to the best of his abilities. When the session had ended, only a little amount of these feelings remained in her, replaced by so much more positive things._

_ Two days later, when she had willingly decided to stay inside the bunker with Alex, even though it meant having a slight possibility of getting hurt. Charles felt so much fear for her safety, but at the end of the day, his fondness only turned into admiration._

_ His encounter with her the night after the paintball war. He'd found her leaning against the kitchen aisle with a mug of warm milk in her hands. She was in her night clothes, which consisted of silk pajama pants and a tight tank top. Charles had been the first to turn away, but in minutes he had her backed up against the sink. Concern was the only thing he felt at that moment, because she told him she had gained bruises from their previous training session—but he couldn't help but feel a certain attraction for the girl._

_ They had never been so close before. That was the night he almost kissed her, but only stopped himself because she didn't want him. Not yet._

_ The day after that, when Erik had made her upset during their paintball fight in the rain. That was the day she had finally revealed to them her past, though Charles had already known half of what she said. The sheer temptation of running up to her and hugging her in the middle of that field was strong; in the end, he had instead followed her into her room, and that was where she allowed him to trap her in his embrace._

_ The day after that, they shared their first kiss._

_ Two days after the events in Cuba. Arya was kneeling in front of Charles with tears streaming down her face; she missed her friend, and her old life, but she still told him that she wasn't going to leave him. "I'm absolutely sure," she said afterwards, and then she kissed him. That was the day Charles realized that his fondness, his admiration towards her… these had evolved—seemingly without him noticing beforehand—into feelings that were much, _much_ stronger._

* * *

The memories halted like how one would imagine a river to stop flowing—delicately, impossibly, and very, very slowly.

Their positions had changed, now. Arya still knelt before Charles, but her hands had fallen away from his face. He'd cupped hers in the same way she did with him only a minute ago, and brushed the tears that streamed forth from her eyes. His hands were warm. Arya bit back a sob and replaced it with a laugh.

"I remember you," she whispered. His eyes bore into hers steadily, lovingly, and in the silence of the room she could almost hear his heartbeat.

"And I you," he said in return. His breath fanned over her face, enveloping her senses. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him. Her hands had now travelled from her lap and to his hands, which were still on her cheeks. She cupped them both before leaning forward and placing a kiss on his lips. Like most, she kept it soft, gentle, loving; exactly what she felt for him. Seldom times it would turn into something deeper, and more passionate, but at that moment, she didn't want to rush it. He sighed against her lips, sending shivers up and down her spine.

When she finally pulled away, his eyes were sparkling with mischief. Arya frowned and asked in suspicion, "What?"

"I still haven't forgotten our deal, you know." A sly smile spread across his lips. "I sincerely hope _you_ haven't."

"_I_ haven't," Arya answered cheekily, letting her eyes flick down to his lips. It made him crazy. "Just keep one of those serums Hank gave you in handy. We'll never know when you're in the mood."

"I'll keep more than one in handy, then."

"Touché." She grinned at his reply, but forced herself to turn serious. "But right now, we have to worry about finding Raven."

"Oh, I already have."

"_What_?" Arya shot to her feet. "Where is she?"

"She's headed for D.C."

Arya looked down at him with wide eyes. "And you're only telling me this _now_?"

"You've always told your students to share with the class, and I decided to take your advice." Charles schooled on a frown. "Didn't you want to see those things?"

Arya didn't know whether he was serious or not, but when she peeked into his mind for a fraction of a second, she found him silently chuckling. She slapped his arm—which probably hurt more than she'd intended, but he didn't say anything.

"Not funny," she grumbled. Charles started publicly chuckling, then, and she couldn't help but to do the same. Once they were sober again, Arya asked, "What's she doing there anyway?"

"The president will be making an announcement tomorrow at the White House. We don't know for sure, but Hank's guessing that it has something to do about what happened yesterday, at Paris." Charles' voice dropped an octave. "Bolivar Trask is going to be there."

At this, Arya straightened up. "When are we leaving?"

* * *

They left the mansion late in the evening. She didn't expect to be going on a plane again so soon after Paris, also considering that they could have gotten to Washington on wheels instead of wings. But she supposed getting there early wouldn't hurt anybody; on the contrary, it would have only ensured the safety of the president and many more.

Currently, Arya could count on one hand how many times they'd saved the lives of people from the government. With everything Logan had told them about the future of the Institute and the X-Men, she couldn't help but wonder how many more times they were going to do so. In another ten years, would she be forced to count with her toes as well? The idea was gratifying.

"But being a superhero doesn't always mean you beat the bad guys up," her father used to tell her. "Sometimes it's completely the other way around." She was sort of a superhero now, and she was positive that she understood the meaning of that statement just as much as anyone—maybe more.

None of them had gotten any sleep that night, this time. The sky was already painted a golden hue when Hank announced that they were nearing D.C. Logan sat in his usual booth by the corner near the cockpit. Arya sat beside Charles in the sideways couch, watching him rub his thigh with concerned eyes. She had a vague sense that Logan was doing the same thing: watching him.

"You alright?" asked Logan.

Charles looked up. "Getting there," he said with pursed lips, before turning his head to look out the window. Logan switched his gaze to Arya, and she gawked at him questioningly. He raised an eyebrow—a question. About what, Arya didn't know. She shrugged and turned her attention back to Charles. At the far end of the cabin, Logan sighed.

"Whatever happens today, I need you to promise me something," he said, his voice earnest. His statement was vague enough for Charles to pay attention. The professor turned his gaze back to Logan, who pursed his lips. He said, "You've looked into my mind and you've seen a lot of bad, but…" He paused, raising his eyes to meet Charles'. "You've seen the good too. The X-Men."

He leaned forward, and Arya found herself listening in with interest as well.

"Promise me you'll find us," said Logan. "Use your power, bring us together; guide us, _lead_ us." Beside Arya, Charles pursed his lips. "Storm, Scott… Jean—remember those names." Arya branded them into her mind like her brain was cattle, hoping that Charles was doing the same. "There are so many of us. We _will_ need you… professor."

Her telepath shifted in his seat when he said, "I'll do my best," seemingly awkward. Arya's lip twitched when she realized that he was exactly that. She reached for his hand and squeezed, but her eyes never left Logan.

"Your best is enough," he said. And for the first time, (or the first time she'd seen, anyway,) his eyes softened. "Trust me."

Charles nodded thoughtfully, sending the future-mutant a small smile before once again turning his gaze out the window. Logan sighed and Arya gave him a subtle thumbs up. He jerked his head in acknowledgement, but said nothing more. The atmosphere must have been tenser than she realized; she supposed it only made sense.

None of them knew what was going to happen as soon as they landed. None of them knew whether they would succeed. None of them knew whether Erik would come around and destroy their plans yet again. None of them knew whether they were going to be able to change the course of the future or not. None of them were even sure if all of them were going to get back to New York in one piece. Arya felt this exceedingly more, because of what Logan had told her before—about not ever meeting her again in the future.

Was D.C. the place where she was to meet her demise?

* * *

**So waddya guys think? I hope I didn't make the flashback scene too cheesy... but I think I did HAHAHA.**

**And most of you guys are wondering what will happen to Arya in the future, or when Charles will found out. Bluntly put, I don't know what I'm going to do either. Make sure to leave some SANE and POSSIBLE suggestions. :) **

**Love you all! Peace out.**


	32. Chapter 12 - Rectify (Part 1)

**In light of the tragedies and disasters that have befallen Paris, Japan, Baghdad, Beirut, Mexico, and anywhere else that may be going through hardships, I would like to encourage all my readers to pray. Pray for peace. It doesn't matter if you believe in a god, or multiple gods, or no god at all. We all live on the same earth, and I think everyone agrees with me when I say that detachment is not the answer.**

**So many horrible things have happened in the past two days that it makes you wonder whether this is how the world will end.**

**If, by some slim chance, I have any readers out there from the given countries that are going through such hardships, please know that the people of the Philippines stand with you. If I can't offer comfort by my presence, please find solace in my heartfelt words: ****I stand with you.**

**And in the subject of ISIS, I condemn them. Their methods of "doing Allah's will" are sickening. But I would also like to say that, despite the ISIS group being Islam, do not condemn the general Islam people. Those who truly have nothing to do with the terrorist group deserve fair judgment, for they are still our brothers and sisters in the world.**

**Again, I offer my sincerest condolences to anyone who might be reading this who are from Paris, Japan, etc. My prayers are with you.**

**Pray for the world.**

* * *

**Chapter 12**

More people had attended the Peace Accords at Paris than the president's broadcast at the White House. A small smirk grew on Arya's mouth because she knew that this meant there were going to be less people to protect, if it ever came to it. And she wasn't satisfied because she didn't want to protect them. She was satisfied because it was going to make their jobs—hers, Hank's, Charles', Logan's—all the more easier. She had to admit, whenever there was an attack, humans would just run around screaming, knocking each other to the ground rather than just rush to the exit that was five yards away.

At least a hundred people stood on the field. Rows of picket white chairs waited behind them for their leisure. It had been separated into two groups so that there was an aisle in the middle; about ten feet wide—give or take. The stage was several feet wider than this. A single, short flight of stairs had been placed in front of it, and similar steps were placed at either side of the stage so that the president could climb up. Three rows of seats waited on the stage, where three rows of people from the government waited. Their chatting was lost amidst the roar of the crowd. A band stood on the right side of the stage, them and their conductor the only people who weren't talking.

The stage's backdrop had been painted with the colors of America. At the very top were symbols of the American government. Arya deducted that it was just a curtain, seeing from the way it billowed slightly when the wind picked up. Behind it, the White House stood in all its patriotic glory, though eyes weren't going to be focused there for much longer.

One of the guards waiting by the entrance requested Arya to remove her gloves. Hesitantly, she pulled them off and handed them to the man. She was careful not to let her skin even scrape against his. Logan and Hank trailed behind her as she led Charles beneath the metal detector. It beeped, and the professor shrugged, tapping the armrest of his wheelchair with an easy expression.

Arya tried to keep her cool as well, despite the fact that within the hour, they would either rectify the course of the future, or completely destroy it.

A guard with dark skin shifted on his feet as he regarded them with kind, but firm eyes. "Can I see your invitations please?" he asked.

Arya was about to explain to them their situation—an alibi she'd rehearsed for an hour on their way to the White House. She hadn't even started yet when Charles held two fingers to his temple and stared at the guard.

"Yes, you may," he said. "These three are with me."

Realization dawned on the guard's face. "Go ahead." He bobbed his head once, moving to the side to let Arya and the professor pass. The other guard, the one who had taken her gloves from her, handed them back with a polite nod.

"Thank you," Arya replied softly. She put the gloves back on before continuing to push Charles past security. When they were a safe distance away from the metal detectors, she leaned down and murmured into his ear: "Welcome back, Professor X."

His lip turned up in a smile.

On top of the glass arch they'd passed through—the entrance—stood at least four different camera crews. Their cameras were trained on the stage, where the president was already standing behind the podium. There were four more different archways, two on each side of the entrance, and there had to have been more than seven camera crews on each. Arya stared at them uneasily, wondering if they had a convenient way to get down.

She led Charles through the noisy crowd, slipping him past mothers and their children. She halted in the middle of the mob, stopping Charles so that he was in the handicapped row. Beside him were old men who were in uniform, sitting on wheelchairs; old men who must have been war veterans. Lines of badges were pinned to their uniforms, and Arya stared at them in reverence.

Logan and Hank took their places behind Charles, who was already sifting through the crowd with his mind. Arya could see that he was still having trouble controlling his powers. Dutifully, she slipped one of her gloves off, placed a hand on his, and searched through the crowd with him.

Multitudes of voices crowded her head, threatening to overpower her. She pushed through, ignoring the thoughts of the lesser and looking for a voice in particular: Raven's.

_"He's actually gonna do it"_, _"I wonder what's behind that curtain"_,_ "What happened at Paris was horrible"_,_ "Hannah is going to love this"_—statements like these helped Arya with nothing, only making her more frustrated. Where was Raven? Was Charles even sure that her plane had been supposed to fly here? Yes, he had to have been. Bolivar Trask was going to be here and Raven was positive that she wanted to kill him.

At the thought of Bolivar Trask, her eyes whipped to the people lined up on the stage. The scientist who would eventually bring the mutant race's extinction stood at the very front, wearing a black suit like everybody else. _"One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,"_ he was thinking. Behind him, however, stood a familiar face.

It was the soldier who had stunned Raven back at Paris, the one who had nearly shot her too. Arya glared at the haughty expression on his face with disapproval.

Before she could dive back into the thoughts of the crowd, a man's voice boomed through the speakers. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "The President of the United States."

The band played the Presidential Anthem as the crowd erupted in applause. The president started his eased walk up the stage, his hands up to acknowledge the applause. Once he was in front of the podium, the audience stopped clapping and took their seats.

"My fellow Americans," the president started. There was this odd echo in his words that must have been caused by the mic, but it gave Arya a headache. "Today, we face the greatest threat in our history: mutants. We have prepared for this threat. In the immortal words of Robert Oppenheimer—'Behold, the world will never be the same again.'"

He threw his hand back and gestured firmly to the curtains behind him; the band started playing again. And the curtains fell, revealing the large, automaton beings that would bring the end of the mutant species. Soldiers on the stage and from the crowd stood up to salute to the giant-like androids; even the handicapped veterans sitting beside Charles brought their hands up. Arya shifted her gaze to them, frowning.

There were eight Sentinels all in all, spray-painted purple with their joints remaining silver. They weren't even turned on yet, but Arya felt a surge of fear jolt through her, bringing her back to her senses.

"Charles," she muttered. "Where is she?"

Beside her, Logan shifted. His eyes were on the Sentinels, and his hands were clenched into fists as if he was imagining how he would be able to bring them down with just his claws.

"I haven't found her yet, but she _has_ to be here," said Charles, his voice slightly strained. "Help me, Arya. We have to find her _now_."

She immediately placed her hand back on his wrist and resumed her searching. She could literally feel his mind working with her, guiding her through the people faster than she ever could. Hope revitalized with a renewed vigor, she separated her mind from Charles' and began her own path. They would cover better ground that way.

_"I bet Greggory feels a whole lot safer now"_,_ "Those things are massive!"_,_ "So cool"_,_ "I'm pregnant"_,_ "This is for you, brothers and sisters"_, _"I can't believe—"_ Her grip on Charles' hand tightened. Arya zeroed in on the previous mind she'd just heard, knowing that she'd finally found her.

_"It's time to end this,"_ Raven thought.

"Charles," said Arya, squeezing the professor's hand but not pulling her mind away from Raven's. "Charles, I've found her."

Within seconds, his mind met up with hers and he took the reins. "Raven." His voice was strong, hard. It seemed he had Raven under control, and so Arya pulled away from them both. She blinked, her mind adjusting to the real world as her eyes searched the field around them, peeled for any signs of a threat.

"I have her," Charles said, pulling at Logan's arm.

The future-mutant became rigid, instantly turning alert. "Where?" he asked.

Charles pointed to a man in a black suit with brown hair, standing a few feet away from the stage. He wasn't moving, and Arya had to assume that that was her telepath's doing. "There, you see? Secret service man, left of the stage."

"Got it," Logan said, before starting on their way out of the crowd and to Raven.

Arya eyed the service man with wariness. "Have you got her?"

"I believe I do," Charles replied. Arya imagined he would have been smiling if he didn't have to concentrate so much. Not like before. She sighed, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. But she looked up to find the Sentinel's eyes alight, their bodies humming to life so loudly that it was to be heard from all the way to the back of the crowd.

Jets of hot wind blasted through their mid-joints and their feet, sending ripples through the air and lifting them off the stage. They kept floating until they were as high as the roof of the White House. Arya's eyes snapped to Bolivar Trask, who looked just as surprised as she was—and maybe more panicked.

She gripped Charles by the shoulder. "Something's wrong," she said.

He didn't seem to hear her though; his eyes were still trained on Raven who was still pinned in place. Arya swiveled her head around, taking in the sight of people who had stood up off their seats and were clapping. They had looks of awe on their faces as they stared up at the Sentinels.

Once again, Arya looked to Trask and found his jaw was set. The soldier behind him, the one from the Peace Accords, had his hand positioned in a salute, but both their eyes scanned the crowd. Even from afar, Arya could see the startled expressions on their faces, almost as if…

_Almost as if something had forced the Sentinels to activate._

Bolivar hadn't activated them; his soldier-buddy hadn't activated them. Perhaps the president? No, he would have informed Trask, and Trask was surprised. It wasn't the government, it wasn't Trask, it wasn't the soldiers. Arya racked through her brain to remember what could have activated the Sentinels like that.

The Sentinels were floating right above the front of the crowd, now. And though they were robots, their eyes were menacing. One raised its arm up and pointed it at the left side of the field, where police men and their cars were waiting for danger. Arya had never seen a machine gun before, but she was fairly positive that it was a machine gun's barrel that was peeking out of the forearms of the Sentinels.

Her heart dropped just as one of them started firing.

Screams erupted from several people from the crowd all at once until Arya heard nothing more. Her first instinct was to throw her arms over her head, shielding both her and Charles. An explosion rocked the ground beneath her feet, and she peeked over her shoulder to find two police cars overturned and on fire.

Meanwhile, Charles had lost his concentration, which meant Raven could kill Trask anytime now. Arya held onto the hopes of Logan and Hank finding her in time and decided to get Charles and her out of range of the Sentinel's bullets.

Or better yet, stop the Sentinels from shooting every damn civilian that was making his way to his car.

"ERIK!" Charles yelled.

He and Arya were the only ones staying on their places. People scrambled to get farther away from the Sentinels, who were still in midair, firing bullets at the humans they were meant to protect.

"Where is he?" Arya yelled to be heard over the screams of the crowd. "I can stop him!" _These Sentinels weren't supposed to have any metal in them, dammit._ Another explosion rocked the ground, so close that Arya actually felt the heat singe her cheeks.

The government people on stage were long gone, leaving the Sentinels to land on it as they continued firing. Arya wheeled Charles around and started running for some place to take cover in, maybe a car that _wasn't_ on fire. She found one a few yards away, past all the overturned chairs and grassy terrain. They were close enough there that Arya could just pick Charles up from his wheelchair and throw him there, into safety, when the noise of bullets died down. The Sentinels stopped shooting.

Arya whipped her head around to see what had happened. Some part of her wished that they had miraculously stopped working; that Trask's work was a piece of crap, but that was too much to ask for. She found something much worse than bad engineering.

A large stadium floated behind them in the sky—what Arya knew to be the Robert Kennedy Memorial Stadium. Billows of dirt and scraps of metal fell from beneath it, trailing behind it in coats of debris. For some reason, the Sentinels had flown to the base of it, a massive hole where a baseball field or football field should have been. Arya found this reason to be Magneto.

He hovered at the base, a speck that slowly turned into the silhouette of a human. He had his arms outstretched, palms upward, and his cape billowed behind him, making him look like an anti-Superman. When he was finally close enough, Arya noticed that he had somehow gotten his helmet back, and her stomach clenched. The man looked exactly the same as he was that day in Cuba.

They'd already reached the safe-car, but it was for nothing. Not because the Sentinels had stopped firing, but because the problem they had to worry about now was the stadium heading their way.

"What the hell is Erik gonna do with that?" Arya asked. "Plant it on the White House?" She was still panting from their run. Her feet were heavy, but she could stand. She wished she could say the same about her arms, though. They felt like lead from having to push Charles' wheelchair over small rocks and the rough ground.

Charles shook his head. "He's going to plant it here," he said. "As a barricade, I would suspect. To keep reinforcements from getting in, and to keep us and Trask from slipping past him."

"They're not even here anymore! It's just us."

"Erik doesn't know that," said the telepath. "And if he does, then he has a way to bring them back here." He looked at her. "He's doing this to prove a point. You must remember that."

"I do remember, always have." Arya glared at Magneto. "I also remember that he's a pain in the ass. He got his helmet back. I don't know how I'm going to stop his powers with a distance like this."

"Neither do I."

That did nothing to ease Arya. She firmly believed that nothing else could, considering the Kennedy stadium was right above their heads. It was then that she realized that the debris was landing all around them now, and that they were standing right below the arena's foundation. Dirt clouded her senses, but she had enough left to pick Charles up from his wheelchair and to start running like hell.

Her limbs burned beneath his weight, but she did her best to push past the pain; just like she did back at Cuba when she was bringing Erik's missiles down. She'd gotten through that, why not this?

The professor did his best to keep his weight off Arya, but it wasn't working. She was tripping over chairs again and again and again, barely being able to keep her feet on the ground. Sweat trickled into her eye. A sob threatened to break loose from her throat because Charles seemed to be getting heavier and heavier every second. Above them, Erik was looking down at them with cold eyes. That is, until he looked away and dropped his arms. The stadium groaned one last time before gravity took the wheel. It fell.

Arya vaguely heard someone shout her name. The guttural call came from her left, but it was distant—as distant as it could be behind the noise of the stadium's groans. Arya's every limb was mush, then. Charles only remained in her grip because he had wrapped his arms around her neck, but even her neck was feeling heavy.

Some new sense of strength curdled within her when she heard the sound of her name, though. With an impressively loud war cry, she leapt off the ground, Charles still in her arms, and landed three feet away. She landed on her feet, but they gave way beneath her and she rolled onto her back. Charles was lost from her grip.

Her eyes opened slightly, but it was only darkness that surrounded her.

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**Part 2 comes right after this one, and then the epilogue, and then that's it. Part 3 of Mercury's Red Flag will probably come out several months after X-Men: Apocalypse comes out.**

**Love you all. Keep safe. Keep praying.**


	33. Chapter 13 - Rectify (Part 2)

**Chapter 12**

Apparently, her epic leap of three feet was enough.

Her vision was enclosed by a row of stadium seats. The metal nails that had pinned their base to the floor had given way, and so they hung above Arya's head like little square guardian angels—guardian angels that would have killed her if she hadn't jumped in time. She carefully slid sideways, being careful not to even scrape against the chairs, but wincing when a rather sharp piece of debris scratched her shoulder blade.

Charles lay on his back to her right, looking no worse for wear. He'd gotten a nasty head wound from the roll he made out of her arms, if Arya had to guess. The blood had already dried around it, so she didn't need to worry about him bleeding out. She gained the strength to get her feet beneath her and stood up. Something cold trickled down the side of her back, and she brought her hand around to touch it to find that it was blood.

_Really?_ she thought irritably, a snarl dying in her throat. _One cut from a stupid piece of debris, and it starts bleeding like BAM._

Her telepath hadn't lost consciousness, thankfully, but was trying to get out of his metal prison—which was, to say, three beams that had him pinned down. Arya knew that she wouldn't be able to pull those off him. Perhaps Hank, but she had no idea where he or Logan was.

"Charles," she called. Her voice came out raspy, and she coughed, resulting in several dust clouds enveloping her once more. "Are you alright?" She made her way towards him in slow, uneven steps.

"Fine," he replied, and Arya noted that he was keeping his voice hushed. She recalled why they were behind a barricade in the first place, and who put it there, and she whipped her head to the side.

Behind the barricade of stadium seats and metal beams, was Magneto. He had his hand out in a tight gesture, a mask of concentration on his face. He was looking for something—the president, most likely. Arya tore her gaze away from him for a moment and rushed to Charles' side.

She didn't touch him, or the beams, afraid that it would become heavier on him in some way. She'd never been good at the Laws of Gravity, but she knew that it was possible. She didn't touch him.

"Charles, Erik's looking for the president."

He looked up at her from beneath the heap of metal, two fingers already on his temple. "Hank and Logan?" he inquired.

Arya once again looked past the barricade, and her heart dropped when she found Hank trapped inside a car, one of the Sentinels beating around the vehicle to find a way to him. "Pinned," she replied to Charles. "I can help him—"

"No, Arya. You're too tired."

"He's the only one who can get… _this_ off you!" She gestured wildly to the beams keeping him down. "And that Sentinel will eventually find a way to get to him—"

"I need you _here_, Arya," Charles cut her off again. This time, he was undeniably insistent. "You and I are the only ones who'll be able to convince Raven not to kill Trask. She'll listen to you."

"But Hank—"

"Isn't the only one who can get me out of here."

A determined expression crossed his features. Arya knew what he meant, then. And though she was still very much worried about Hank, she couldn't actually leave him. If the Sentinel got to him, he wouldn't be able to protect himself.

She looked to Magneto. "He's wearing the helmet, Charles. You can't get in his head." Several guns floated above his head, all pointed at something in front of him. Frowning, Arya stood up and walked until she was standing by Charles' head, and dread filled her. "You've got to be kidding me."

The mutant had brought the safe room out of the White House. It now stood, with the front portion of it ripped away, in the middle of the field. The president, his Cabinet, his Secret Service men, and Trask stood dazed in the room, backed up as far as they could. Erik was delivering a speech; much like he had been back at Cuba, but Arya wasn't listening. As much as she denied it, he could be persuasive when he wanted to. She looked past him, and to the glass archways that was the entrances. Miraculously, they had remained standing. But the cameras on top of them were pointed at Erik, now, and Arya realized that he wasn't talking to the government. He was talking to the world.

A crash from where Hank was caught her attention, and she looked there to find that the Sentinel had turned away from the devastated car. It was making for Erik, now, but he waved his hand and its limbs separated from its body. While Erik was occupied, President Nixon had drawn a gun and pulled the trigger.

In her shock, Arya couldn't move. She watched as the bullet seemingly hit Erik, for he crumpled to his knees with his hand gripping a spot on the side of his neck. The guns levitating above him dropped to the ground. In a rippling blur of blue, Nixon wasn't Nixon anymore, but Raven.

Meanwhile, Hank, who was now in his human form, exited the car. Arya slipped her remaining glove off and used Charles' mutation to alert Hank of where they were. His head swiveled to where she stood and met her gaze. A sense of understanding passed through them and he ran off to the very back of the barricade, disappearing there.

He reappeared behind a large piece of concrete. Once he caught sight of the professor beneath his metal cage, he rushed towards them immediately. Arya didn't wait for him to get to them. She rushed out of the ruined stadium barricade, stepping over the debris of concrete and metal. She took a moment to steel her stomach, praying to whatever God there was out there, and ran until she was in front of the president's safe room.

Raven's grip on the gun loosened when she saw Arya, but the tautness returned in a few seconds.

"Step aside, Arya," she said, her voice coming out as a growl. She shook the gun in her hand in a gesture Arya supposed was threatening, but she wasn't afraid. She met Raven's eyes with ease.

"Raven," Arya said, keeping her voice gentle and collected. She held her hands beside her head, squeezed into knuckles so that Raven wouldn't think she was trying to use her power. "Please, _don't_ make us the enemy today."

"Look around you, Arya!" Raven exclaimed. "We already are."

"Not all of us." Arya put on an easy smile and gestured to the men around her who were shaking in fear. They stared at her and at Raven, eyes bulged out. Arya met Bolivar Trask's gaze, but she didn't hold it for long. "All you've done so far is save the lives of these men," she said softly.

Raven's steel gaze wavered slightly. "Charles put you up to this, didn't he?"

"I ran here to stand in front of your gun because I wanted to." Arya frowned. "And because you're making a mistake."

"Everyone keeps saying that," Raven snapped. "I'm doing this because that _monster_ killed our friends! I thought you'd side with me on this. Don't you miss Sean? Angel?"

Sadness crept into Arya's heart at the memory of them. "I've missed them every day for the past eight years," she said. "But they wouldn't want you to do this, Raven. You knew them as much as I did. Do you really think they'd want you to kill for revenge?"

Raven's lower lip quivered. "I think they'd want someone to remember them for all the good they did at Cuba. All the good _we_ did. They were _heroes_, Arya."

Hearing this, Arya's expression softened. She took a single step forward, but no more. Raven was only a few feet away, now. "People know now. The whole world's watching." Arya nodded at the dozens of cameras that stood atop the glass arches. Raven turned her head for a second, and her eyes widened in realization.

Slowly, she lowered the gun. Hesitation flickered across her features, and she looked at Arya in uncertainty. "Where's Charles?"

"I'm right here."

Both women whipped their heads around to find where the source of the voice had come from. Behind the rubble, Hank had finally been able to lift the metal beams. Now he was carrying Charles in his arms, and the professor nodded at the spot beside Arya. Uncertain, she stepped to the side, but Hank only put him down there on top of a blunt square of metal. Arya kept her eyes on Raven, but when she felt a hand touch hers, she didn't need to look down to know it was her telepath. Without a second thought, she twined her fingers through his.

Raven saw this, and her expression softened. Her lip twitched up in a small smile, but Arya noticed that she still hadn't let go of the gun. Nevertheless, she kept up a grin.

"Finally, right?" Arya squeezed Charles' hand. "This bloke's the best thing that's happened to me, and you helped make it happen." She looked at Raven earnestly. "You're a blessing. Don't forget that."

A tear might have slipped down Raven's cheek, but from where Arya stood, it was too soon to tell.

Raven switched her gaze to Charles. "What about you?" she asked, and Arya was surprised to find that the fight seemed to have gone out of her voice already. "You have anything to say about all this?"

Charles shook his head, chuckling lightly. "I've been trying to control you ever since the day we met, and look where that's got us," he said kindly, leaning forward in his seat. "Everything that happens now is in your hands. I have faith in you, Raven. You'll show them a better path. You'll make the right choice."

For several beats, there was nothing but silence. Raven stared at Charles with an expression that Arya didn't recognize. Beside the professor, Hank regarded Raven with a look that must have been guilt, because Raven would glance at him from time to time and his frown would only deepen. Arya was thankful that the president, nor his Cabinet, nor his Secret Service men, did anything to interrupt their conversation. Perhaps Charles had halted time or something, making it so that he, Arya, Raven, and Hank were the only ones who could move. Perhaps not.

Then Raven met Arya's gaze, and it was over. She dropped the gun, and it landed on the grass with a dull crunch. Without another word, she turned around and walked to where Magneto lay, apparently out cold. She leaned down and pulled the helmet off his head, tucking it against her hip.

"He's all yours, Charles. And Arya?" she said, making Arya raise her eyes to look at her. The familiar warmth returned to Raven's eyes when she said, "Thank you… for everything." Before Arya could reply, she had turned back around and disappeared behind the rubble of the Kennedy stadium.

There came several sighs of relief from behind her and Charles, presumably from the staff of the White House. Arya was about to turn around and tell them to shut it when Erik's eyes flew open. He looked fazed, confused, but no worse for wear. Arya wished that Raven had shot him somewhere else, preferably where he would have bled more, but that would have just made her a hypocrite.

Scowling, Arya strode to where Erik lay and grabbed him by the collar of his cape. Fueled by anger, she was able to lift him up until his feet no longer touched the ground. His eyes widened, and Arya hissed in his face. "You _sick_, _twisted_, son of a—"

"Arya."

Her growl died down. "Charles," she replied slowly, her glare still fixed on Erik. He had recovered from the shock, more or less, and the silently smug twinkle in his eye had returned. Arya wished nothing more than to slap him (because she could slap harder than she could punch), but Charles said her name again, and she let the mutant drop back to the ground.

Erik regarded her with calculating eyes. "You've grown fouler since the last time you fought me in Cuba," he said. "Are you sure you don't want to kill me?"

"You _shot_ me, after our supposed _agreement_," Arya ground out, her hands clenching into fists. The mutant standing in front of her froze, but she allowed herself little satisfaction. "You may have cared for them before, but Raven doesn't care about _you_ anymore. I'm not going to kill you now, but if you _ever_ hurt her, or me, or Charles, or Hank, or _anyone_ that I care about, I'll stick a knife in your neck. Understand?"

He seemed to consider her proposal for a moment, because he didn't answer right away. An unfeeling smile crept onto Arya's lips. "You think I'm bluffing?" she said. "Try me."

Magneto was silent for several seconds before he nodded once. Satisfied, Arya backed up until she was once again beside Charles and Hank. Behind them, the president, his Cabinet, and Trask stared at her with fearful eyes. She stared back at them blankly, but not coldly. She sighed, letting the anger pass, and turned her head to look at Erik again.

"If you let them have me, I'm as good as dead," he was telling Charles. "You know that."

Charles nodded slightly. "I know."

For a few moments, the two men looked at each other. Charles must have communicated with him mentally, because afterwards Erik nodded in understanding before saying, "Goodbye, old friend."

"Goodbye, Erik," replied the professor, his tone harder than Erik's.

Arya smirked slightly, but inside—try as she might—she felt the smallest stab of sympathy in her heart. She pushed it away immediately, watching with cold eyes as Erik lifted himself off the ground and disappeared over the destroyed Kennedy Stadium.

Arya turned around and faced the president of the United States. He had been buried behind his Cabinet and Secret Service men, but as soon as Magneto was gone, he stepped out of the safe room. Feeling quite bold herself, Arya stared him down.

"Message received, I hope?" she said, raising an intimidating eyebrow.

Nixon nodded his head quickly.

Satisfied, Arya turned away from them and helped Charles off his seat. Together, she and Hank helped a limping Charles out of the stadium. She was aware of Nixon and his staff members trailing behind them. Frowning slightly, she pointed them to the obvious trail out of the barricade. But this resulted in her, Charles, and Hank having to go on a detour to find another route. None of them needed the police or the FBI turning them in for questioning.

As they scoured the barricade for a safe means of exit, Hank asked, "Are you sure you should let them go?"

"Yes," Charles easily replied. "I have hope for them. There's going to be a time, Hank, when we're all together."

Arya smiled at him. Even after everything that had happened, his faith in mankind was still there. Perhaps it had wavered a bit during his idle years, but it seemed to have returned twicefold now.

"And what about Logan?"

Frowning, Arya remembered their future-mutant friend. The last time she'd seen him was when he had gone to intercept Raven, and that was still when Erik hadn't placed the Kennedy Stadium as a barricade. Her telepath must have sensed her unease, for he craned his neck to peck her cheek lightly.

He said, "I'm sure he's fine."

If Hank knew what had happened to Logan, he didn't say anything.

Together, they took their leave from the stadium, a new story created and kept in their pockets. A thought occurred to Arya and she sighed, already anxious of the days to come. _Chloe's gonna downright murder me,_ she thought.


	34. Epilogue (End of Rectify)

**Final chapter of Rectify. :) I sincerely hope you guys enjoy this one!**

**sorry for any errors in the grammar or in the facts or in the spelling; I didn't have time to proofread this before putting it up.**

**btw I'M GOING TO SAM SMITH'S CONCERT LATER YA'LL WISH ME LUCK HOPE I DON'T DIE HIS VOICE IS JUST UGH HEARTS EVERYWHERE-**

**I do not own X-Men or any of its characters; I only own my OC and anything else you might not recognize.**

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**EPILOGUE**

Charles, Hank, and Arya took three days for themselves in the mansion.

They ate together, chatted in the living room while waiting for something interesting to come up in the news, and even occasionally played a round or two of Beer Pong in the Games Room. But if they weren't doing any of these things, they were sleeping. All of them had gained their own injuries during the escapade in D.C.

Hank received quite a few bruises from his fight with the Sentinel, Charles' head wound needed one or two stitches, despite the blood clot, and Arya needed time for the bullet hole in her shoulder to close up again.

Apparently, while she was running to keep Charles and her from being squished by the Kennedy Stadium, Hank's stitches had snapped. She had barely noticed it. Meanwhile, however, the cut on one of her shoulder blades needed stitches as well.

_At least Chloe will have a lot of stories to look forward to,_ Arya mused, smiling slightly at the thought of her friend waiting for her in Carlsbad.

It was the fourth day since the events in Washington when she heard a knock on her door.

"Come in," Arya called, not taking her eyes off the volleyball that she repeatedly tossed into the air using her fingertips.

The door opened and Charles stepped through, closing it behind him immediately afterward. Arya's room was dark, for she had closed the drapes and it had to have been 6 in the evening. From where she lay on her bed, it was impossible to read the professor's expression. She mentally noted that his wheelchair was nowhere to be seen, and her heart skipped a beat.

He wore one of his simpler button-up shirts, with the sleeves folded up to his elbows. His hair was disheveled, but Arya expected this because he never combed unless they were going out, or unless he absolutely needed to. She didn't reprimand him about it; she quite liked how messy hair looked on him. It offered her something different from polite-mutant-boyfriend.

Arya let the volleyball drop to the floor beside her bed, pulling herself up into a sitting position. The ball bounced several times, and during every beat Charles was just staring at her. When it finally stopped bouncing, Arya allowed herself to speak.

"Charles?" she said. Her voice came out softer than she'd meant, and she cleared her throat. "What's up?"

He finally stepped away from the door.

"You've forgotten," he said; his voice tilted upward at the last word, making Arya wonder if he was asking her. But she had no idea what she had forgotten. Or at least, she had an idea but couldn't quite bring it to mind.

She laughed uneasily. "What have I forgotten again? Seriously, I'm getting _so_ forgetful these days, and you have to—"

Charles had rushed from his place in the middle of the room and was on the bed with Arya in seconds. He had both hands sunk to the wrist in the mattress on either side of her head, but he didn't even need those to pin her to place. His heated gaze could have done just fine. His lower half sat on the side of her bed, his feet giving him enough range to reach her head. He had his face lowered; it hovered only inches away from Arya's. Her eyes widened slightly at the abruptness of it all, but then she recalled the deal she'd made with him—why he would ever have to take one of Hank's serums again.

"Our deal," replied Charles in what sounded like a slightly entertained tone—she'd already remembered though.

One hand drifted to gently pull a strand of hair away from her face, but after doing do, he caressed her cheek. His touch was as light as a feather, and it sent shivers down Arya's spine.

"Yeah, yeah, I—I remember now." Arya struggled to think of a complete sentence that would somehow faze him, only long enough for her to get a grip of herself. "Look, Charles, maybe we shouldn't—I mean—Hank's downstairs right now and he might—" She stopped abruptly when Charles moved his head lower so that his nose brushed against the side of her jaw. His warm breath fanned her neck, and her eyes fluttered closed. "Hank, might—"

"Hank's out," the professor murmured, with his lips so close to her neck that his breaths felt like water. "I sent him off to deliver some files for me to a university at Connecticut."

Despite herself, Arya frowned. "But traffic's crazy today. You watched the news with me this morning, and—"

"Hank didn't," he finished for her. "Now, Arya, enough conversation. Please."

Before she could protest, Charles already had his mouth on hers. His kiss was soft at first, but as the minute progressed, he turned more insistent. His lips ground against hers, bruising, insistent. Arya once more pushed herself into a sitting position to make it easier for both of them. Charles adjusted so that he was on his knees between her legs, and then he was kissing her again.

For several heavenly moments, Arya was blissful. She loved the way he pressed his lips against hers, and then turned gentle, right before turning adamant again.

She barely noticed it when he adjusted their positions once more, so that he was sitting with his legs straight, and Arya was sitting on top of him with her legs on either side of his waist. She barely noticed it when his hand travelled to the small of her back and pushed gently, making it so that every time they gasped for air, their chests would brush against the other's like sandpaper. She barely noticed it when he slipped into her mouth, his tongue brushing against every surface it could find.

However, she did notice when his hips started grinding upwards.

Arya broke the kiss immediately, breathing heavily. A moan died in Charles' throat and he stopped moving against her. She turned her head to the side, letting her hair cover the side of her face because she couldn't bear to look at him without feeling guilty.

It was him, though, who apologized. "Arya, I'm sorry," he started. "I shouldn't have… I knew you weren't…"

With all he was saying, Arya couldn't help but to feel her own heart clenching. She pulled herself off of him and crawled to the other side of the bed. She couldn't see him from there even if she raised her head.

"We should have waited," Charles said, and Arya died a little inside when his voice broke. "I am so sorry, Arya. I shouldn't have forced you into this. I knew you didn't want it, not—"

"_'Didn't want it'_?" Arya repeated his words, letting them roll off her tongue. They felt alien, and she laughed humorlessly. "Charles, I do want it. I want _you_. I love _you_. But I… I'm…" She trailed off, and when she spoke again, her voice was a strangled whisper: "I'm afraid."

She didn't know whether her telepath had heard it or not, but she let a soft sigh escape her throat anyway because the silence was louder than anything he could have said. Then Charles was in front of her, kneeling, like how she would have been if it was him who was in his wheelchair with tears rushing down his face.

He enclosed her hands in his, warming them. "You don't have to be afraid with me, Arya. I've told you that—" He stopped when a chuckle escaped Arya's lips.

And it was a genuine one too. She shook her head, smiling slightly. "It's my first time doing this with _anyone_, Charles. Can't I at least have the benefit of the doubt?"

"But I would never hurt you, Arya."

"It didn't look like that before," she grumbled, sniffling slightly. Charles stiffened in front of her, and guilt spread across her chest like wild fire. "I didn't mean it like that. I just…" Her voice broke again and she screwed her eyes shut, already feeling the stinging feeling of tears, which she quickly willed away.

She felt his hands let go of hers to cup her face. "Fear is among all of us, Arya. Even me," he whispered softly. "I fear losing you. I fear having to see you hurt."

"I love you." Arya opened her eyes to find a thin sheet of tears on his eyes, and she brought her hand up to stroke his cheek. "But let's … take it slow, okay?"

He nodded his head once. Arya took a moment to herself to calm her breathing. She licked her lips, doing her best to keep it from drying because of her anxiety. And then finally, she leaned down and captured Charles' lips with a soft kiss. He returned it with equal intensity, only pushing against her enough for her to feel a fluttering in her stomach.

With shaky hands, she started unbuttoning his shirt. She felt him smile against the kiss, but otherwise didn't stop in his ministrations. Neither did Arya. After a while, she finished with all the buttons, and was allowed to finally slip the shirt off his shoulders. It floated to the ground as Arya pulled Charles onto the bed with her.

Once he had his head on the pillow, she pulled her shirt over her head. The feel of his eyes roaming her nearly-bare torso unnerved her. She fought back a blush. In an instant, Charles had risen from his lied-back position on the bed and pulled her down with him. Her head hit the pillow with a dull thud, and their hard landing was enough to make them bounce once on the bed.

The silliness of it all made Arya laugh, and soon Charles followed suit. When she stopped, her vision focused on the look of awe and wonder on his face. He traced a finger down her jaw, but his eyes remained on hers.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.

Arya had his lips trapped in a kiss before he could say more. She didn't want him to. What he'd said was enough to last a lifetime in her heart. And Hank wasn't going to be gone forever. She wanted her first time to be with her first love—her first _true_ love. She ran her hands across his smooth (but not necessarily chiseled) chest, smiling slightly when he gave her bottom lip a gentle nip. Humming, she did the same for him before licking the very same spot she'd bitten. Her hands travelled past his waist and to his back, rubbing her hands tentatively there.

Charles became impatient, it seemed, but he hid it well. The only way she found out was when his fingers slipped into the waistband of her cotton shorts, tugging once, before he seemed to realize what he was doing and returned his hand to the side of her head. Arya exhaled softly. She had known the moment was coming soon, and though there was still a small hint of unsureness within her, she knew she had to abide by their desires. It was what she _also_ wanted, after all.

Before she could change her mind, she quickly pulled her shorts down, keeping her eyes squeezed shut and keeping her lips close to his; but due to this, her kisses turned rushed, sloppy. And this was one of the reasons why she kept her eyes closed. She was nervous to see his reaction, be it to her careless kisses or her almost-nudity.

As she uncertainly kicked her shorts off her feet, Arya felt Charles move a stray strand of hair away from her face, before softly gripping her chin in two of his fingers. He removed his lips from hers, but she could still hear and feel his breathing. He was still very close, and so she opened her eyes. And when she saw only love and patience on his face, her hands stopped trembling.

Seeing this, Charles smirked, pulling his fingers away from her chin, instead using them to lead her two hands to his hips. He willed her thumbs to loop into the waistband of his pajama pants, before pushing her wrists down, along with his pants. Arya did not look down, but stared at the loving glint in his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat.

She knew that fate was going to catch up to her eventually, but that afternoon, they made love in her room until the early hours of night. Hank wasn't back yet, but they didn't push it until he arrived. Arya stayed in Charles' arms until she fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion, and even then, she felt her telepath pull a blanket over their heads; to shield them from Hank's prying eyes.

Scientists were curious, and Hank was a scientist.

"Better to be safe than sorry," she vaguely heard Charles murmur into her hair.

Her lip turned up in a small smile, and no nightmares plagued her that evening.

* * *

**i know it's a bit short, and I am sorry. Let me know if you guys want a... LESS CLEAN version of this chapter. I could do it, if ya'll want... God, this is like dancing with the devil HAHAHHA**

**but yeah! aside from that, Rectify just ended. Make sure to keep an eye out for the third and final instalment of Mercury's Red Flag, which will be coming out... whenever I find the time to write it HAHAHA**

**Love you all! Stay awesome!**

**AND NEVER LET THE SHIP SINK. (speaking of ships, what would Charles and Arya's ship name be? comment any suggestions~)**


	35. AN (final decision) - Charya's M-chapter

Hi ya'll! It's ellesmer~

I clearly recall how I mentioned writing a more explicit version of Rectify's Epilogue, and I have. After reading your suggestions and taking some time to think about it, I decided to post it separately.

You can find it in my profile, under the title "Your Rumpled Sheets". Yeah, not my best, but I decided that it would do HAHAHA

There're two reviews on it currently, but I really hope that that'll grow. Make sure to leave your thoughts on the chapter! They would help out a lot. ;)

Thanks for stopping by! (Next stop: Apocalypse!)

Sincerely, ellesmer~


	36. PROMETHEUS - Chapter 1 - The Institute

**I LIIIIIIIIIIIVE!**

**DID Y'ALL KNOW IT'S NEARLY BEEN A YEAR SINCE THAT HIATUS AUTHOR'S NOTE?! (JESUS CHRIST.) BUT I SIMPLY COULD NOT LET IT REACH A YEAR, AND SO I GIVE YOU THIS! MY MIRACLE BABY!**

**Alright, but all joking aside now, I haven't really finished writing the whole of Prometheus yet. However, I figured this first chapter doesn't really have that much to do with the plot - it's practically here just to ease y'all back into the groove of things again - it was safe enough for me to publish ahead of the others. I put as much humor as I could, there's a crapload of fluff, and some foreshadowing as well.**

**A word of warning though: make the most out of this chapter. I can't be sure when I'll update again, be it in a week, or a month, or more. (BUT THE HIATUS IS OFF, OKAY.) I'm just saying that y'all shouldn't expect too much from me. Because rest assured, I am a lazy piece of shit.**

**p.s. HERCULES MULLIGAN-**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"_Mommy! Mommy! Look what I found!"_

_Grinning in excitement, Arya picked up the tiny piece of metal that she had found buried in the sand. She carefully squeezed it between her thumb and forefinger, stood, and came bounding up to her mother, who was sitting on a towel beneath the shade of a palm tree. The ocean lay before them, glistening under the sunlight—rippling, a vast blanket of cerulean._

"_What is it, sweetheart?" said Arya's mother. She pulled her legs in, tucked them under her so Arya could sit in front of her and lean against her without discomfort._

_Shyly, Arya placed the piece of metal into her mother's outstretched hand; watched as her eyes widened, and a bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face._

"_What is it, mommy?" Arya got onto her knees to get a better look at the object. She'd never seen the likes of it before: a shiny brown, cylindrical rock, with one end that was rounded and one end that was flat. It couldn't have been any bigger than her finger. Lines were engraved on the sides, but she didn't know why they were there. Again, she asked, "What is it?"_

_Her mother took a deep breath and finally looked away from the tiny thing, switching her gaze to Arya. "It's called a bullet, baby," she said. There was a frown on her face, but Arya was frowning for a completely different reason._

"_What's it do?"_

"_It hurts people," her mother said. "People use it to hurt other people, when they're angry, or just because they need to... But sometimes, it's accidental. Not everyone wants to hurt people. Not everyone is bad. Do you understand, Arya?"_

_Arya nodded vigorously._

_Her mother took her face in her hands, looking hard into her eyes. "I don't want you to become a bad person, okay? I want you to be a good person, the best there ever was."_

"_I promise I won't hurt anyone, mommy," Arya said. "I don't ever want to hurt anyone. I'll be the one to protect them from the bull-its!"_

_She must have said it wrong, because her mother started laughing. Arya didn't mind, despite the bubble of embarrassment that she felt in her stomach. She didn't like seeing her mother sad. Soon, she was laughing as well, and hugging her mommy as tightly as she could._

_Then, suddenly, her mother was gone, her laughter merely a ghost hovering in the air. Arya looked across the sand dunes, searching for her, but instead she found a body lying a few feet away from her._

_It was a man; he was lying on his side. As Arya approached him, she saw that a blotch of red was blossoming from the small of his back. There was a hole there, almost imperceptible, but Arya saw. And she came to realize just what was lying in front of her._

_The man shifted the slightest bit, and something fell out of the hole in his back. Arya stopped, because there, lying in the sand, was a bullet. Very similar to the one she had shown her mother, just moments ago. But this one was covered in blood._

_And then she wasn't standing on the beach anymore. The sand fell away, and grass and tombstones filled its place. Arya stared at the block of carved rock in front of her._

_**Charles Francis Xavier**__, it read. __**Educator, friend, and mutant.**_

"_You failed him."_

_Arya whirled around to face whoever had spoken. It was a woman with short brown hair and dark doe eyes. She was holding a gun to Arya's chest._

"_Now it's your turn," she said, right before pulling the trigger._

* * *

Arya quickly slipped into consciousness, barely able to choke back the cry of terror that had begun in the back of her throat. Carefully, after making sure that she had really extracted herself from her mind, she opened her eyes.

It had become a routine of sorts, for her. Nearly every night, the nightmares came. She and Charles had devised a way on how she could be able to tell her dreams from reality, because he couldn't always be there to calm her down.

And he was right, no matter how much Arya wanted him to be wrong. She lay in bed, alone and covered in sweat, but she'd learned to get used to it. The nightmares wouldn't stop, no matter what she did, no matter what she thought about before letting her eyes slide shut.

With the remnants of the dream still in her mind, she sat up and pushed her hair back, away from her face. She went into the bathroom and freshened up, put on a decent set of clothes, before hurrying out of the room. She looked for Charles, as she always did whenever she didn't wake up with him by her side. It had become part of her routine. Only when she found him, alive and well, could she be entirely sure that she was really awake.

Nothing had happened in the school, so far, to convince her otherwise.

Arya found him in one of the recreational rooms, surrounded by a thin crowd of students. He was reading a paragraph of text off a book that must have contained a thousand pages—something about psychological resilience (like she knew what that meant.)

She took in the faces of each student; slipped one glove off her hand and observed the white lights of their mutations from afar. Charles' pulsed strongly in the center of his mind. _Good,_ she thought. She wasn't dreaming. Her dreams could never be so detailed.

Satisfied, she slipped her glove back on and made her way to the dining room. There, she found a lone student sitting on the table, head bowed and eyes focused on a book. A cup of hot chocolate sat in front of said student, and the teaspoon was stirring the brown liquid without the aid of human contact.

"Good morning," Arya greeted, smiling when Jean raised her head.

"Good morning, Professor Jacobs."

The students in the facility had been calling her that for the better part of eight years, and she still felt like gagging every single time. The label made her feel old, as if she had actually finished college and gotten a degree in something—when, in fact, she was only responsible for the students' physical education.

"No classes this morning?" Arya asked as she served food for herself from the buffet table.

Jean glanced upwards at the wall clock. "I've got one in about two hours."

"Oh, lots of free time then." Arya took a seat beside her, taking a spoonful of her rice and chicken curry. "Got any plans this morning?"

"I just wanted to finish this book," said Jean.

She slipped her finger onto the page she was on and lifted the tome, so Arya could see the title. And though Arya had never actually read much, she recognized the author. "Jane Austen," she said. "She's a good read, huh?"

"Definitely… I think I might be in love with Darcy."

"Let me guess." Arya began tapping her chin in faux thought. "Tall, dark, and handsome, striking eyes and a good build."

Jean laughed in astonishment. "You've read Jane Austen?"

"I guessed."

Arya smiled. Jean Grey was one of the introverts: quiet in class, but with a brilliant mind—hence, why she was Charles' favorite student. She was also the only other full-blooded telepath in the campus, apart from the professor himself. But she could move objects with her mind too; Charles had called the ability _telekinesis_. It wasn't limited, like how Magneto could only move things that contained some sort of metal. Jean could move anything she wanted, and borrowing her ability had become a pastime for Arya. Jean didn't mind.

Their morning continued on in companionable silence. Arya let Jean continue with her reading, but as she ate, she observed the girl's face—watched as her eyebrows furrowed together every now and again, how the corners of her lips pulled upwards whenever she read something that delighted her.

Once Arya was finished eating, she headed downstairs to the laboratories. There, she found Hank working on an exoskeleton of sorts. She decided not to ask him what it was. It was too early for his long, scientific rants.

"You gonna work on that all day?" she said, announcing her presence.

His head snapped up, and a smile edged up his lips. "Good morning, Arya," he said. "No, actually, I just wanted to kill some time. I've got a few classes this afternoon. The kids need to learn about molecular geometry, after all."

"Of course." Groaning, Arya plopped down onto one of Hank's stools. "I've got nothing to do until 4. You have any suggestions on how I can keep myself from dying out of boredom?"

Hank stared down at his contraption, frowning in concentration. "Charles?"

"He's got classes to teach, just like you."

"Well, maybe you could head into town, do some groceries. I think we're out of milk and—" Sparks flew from the device he was working on; he retreated for a few moments before moving forward again. "Corned beef," he finished.

"How are we doing on sweets?"

"Uh… PB and J, and I think we're all out of chocolate bars."

"Milk, canned shit, PB and J, chocolate." Arya raised an eyebrow. "Any personal requests?"

Hank chuckled. "Not really. I just need my PB and J."

"So you were the one who finished it!" When he nodded his head, Arya laughed and playfully slapped his arm. More sparks flew from the exoskeleton, and Hank handed her a wad of money before good-naturedly shooing her out of the room. "Good luck with that thing," she called just before he shut the door.

Stuffing the cash into her pocket, she returned to her room, put on a thick mask of make-up, slipped her sunglasses over her eyes, and retrieved her car keys. _Her_ car keys, to a blue Chevrolet Camaro. It was one of the many birthday gifts that she had received from Charles, and it was definitely the classiest. Arya had wanted to split the pay, but since her paychecks came from Charles in the first place—well, whose money was it, really?

She pressed the button that opened the garage door, entered her car, and exited the garage. A few students saw her roll onto the driveway, and they smiled at her. Arya waved at each of them in greeting, having gotten used to being recognized by everybody.

As the front gates were being opened, she glanced at the rearview mirror. There the mansion stood, untouched by time, thriving with students, both new and old, a safe haven for mutants. Arya quickly scanned the immediate vicinity, and when she was satisfied that everything was as it should be, she left the campus.

* * *

Food runs weren't big for Arya. Though Charles had already hired _several_ housekeepers, most of the time it was her who went out for grocery shopping. She didn't mind. It kept her busy, and made her feel like she wasn't just sitting around in the mansion, teaching students every now and again.

During the quiet days, it made her feel useful.

Of course, there was still the small problem of getting recognized as one of the mutants who had "captured" and "trapped" President Nixon in the Washington Incident at 1973. But a few layers of concealer and BB cream, and a pair of shades, made all the difference.

As she drove towards the grocery store, she let herself take in the passing scenery outside. The humans had grown bolder through the years—building taller, more complex structures all throughout the city. That required them to cut down more trees, which was a shame, but there was still enough grass and shrubs for Arya to be able to appreciate the coming spring.

The view was definitely better at the mansion.

Arya got a trolley cart from beside the cashier and started checking things off her list; she took her time. When she was finished, her trolley contained four cartons of milk, two weeks' worth of canned goods, two jars of peanut butter, two jars of strawberry jam, three packs of chocolate bars, and two boxes of cereal, which she'd added to the list for the younger ones.

The cashier smiled when Arya began placing her purchases on the counter. "The family coming over again?" he asked, never looking up as he scanned her items.

Arya returned his smile. "At least once a month," she easily lied. "You know that, Richie."

Another smile lit up his face, undoubtedly at the sound of his name. Whenever they got to talk, she made it a point to scarcely say his name throughout the conversation. For some reason, he liked it, but he liked it more when she finally said it out loud.

His eyes flickered to her hand, which she had placed on the counter. "Your man still hasn't sealed the deal yet?"

"What?"

"It's been years. Still no ring?"

"Oh, yeah… We're not the marrying types."

Richie just shrugged and Arya tried her best not to show her discomfort. She often asked herself the very same question that Richie had asked, but she was never brave enough to ask Charles. It wasn't too big of a thing, truly. Sometimes, Arya mused that they were above regular married couples.

A smile touched her lips. Richia was bagging the items, and Arya was digging into her pocket for the money Hank had given her, when she felt the familiar prickling sensation at the back of her neck. She was being watched, and she had a pretty good guess as to who was doing the watching.

Turning around, she saw Rob standing outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking into the store and staring right at Arya.

Rob was an old, homeless man who, as far as she knew, lived in the alley behind the grocery store. The middle portion of his head was bald, with greying hair at the sides. He had hard lines written all across his face, and a pair of haunted, grey-blue eyes that always reminded Arya too much of someone she hated.

He looked healthy, considering the way he lived, but only because a group of kids from some high school—"You know, the real good ones, the tree huggers," Richie had called them—offered to pay for whatever he wanted to buy, every once a week. Just enough for him to get by.

People liked to call him Creepy Robby. Most of the time, she could see why the nickname had stuck, but it was still mean. She called him Rob.

He was always there whenever she was paying for her items—every single time. She had half a mind to ask their housekeeper if she'd been having the same problem, but she was afraid that the housekeeper would think that Rob repulsed her. He didn't. He was just… weird.

She kept Rob's gaze for a few more moments, before he looked away. With small, dragging steps, he walked past the grocery store and out of Arya's line of sight. Like how he always did.

Richie handed her three very large plastic bags that were heavy with her purchases, and she took them with a frown.

"You okay?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

Instinctively, she wiped the frown away and instead offered a wide smile. "I'm fine," she said. "I've carried heavier loads, you know."

He chuckled. "Take care, Arya."

"You too."

She slipped the handle of one of the bags onto her arm and carried the other two bags in her hands. She mouthed a goodbye to Richie and walked out of the mart. After loading the bags into the back of her car, she got in and drove home.

The image of Rob's eyes remained longer than she would have liked, but once she was walking the halls of the Xavier Institute again, all thoughts of him (and of a certain mutant whom she despised) flew out of the window.

A boy of sixteen passed her by, looking as though he had just finished a class. Arya called him over. "Ace," she said. "You mind helping me with these?"

"Sure, professor."

Ace wasn't his real name, but the people in the Institute called him that because of his powers. At first, he hadn't liked it, but it just stuck, and Arya supposed that he'd gotten used to it.

His mutation enabled him to be able to have perfect vision, though it was more than just perfect. During his first day, he had explained to Charles that he could sometimes magnify anything within 100 yards, if he concentrated enough.

Currently, he was training to perfect and extend that distance.

Ace took two of the bags from Arya, and she led the way to the kitchen (also known as the food storage room, to the staff.) They placed the bags onto the floor. Arya opened the empty cupboards above the fridge, picked up a can of sweet corn from one of the grocery bags, and gave it to Ace. She pointed at the emptiness of the cupboards, and smiled. Ace was going to have a field day with this.

"Have fun marking—I mean, stacking," she said, staying long enough to see the delight on his face before walking out.

By then, she was sure that Charles was done with his class, or he should have been. She found him in his office, sitting behind his desk and looking down at a thin stack of papers.

She knocked on the door, grinning when he raised his head. "Grading?" she inquired softly.

"Grading essays, yes," he replied. She entered the room, closed the door behind her, and he put his ballpen down. "Hank told me that you went to fetch groceries."

"Yeah, I had Ace deal with putting the stuff away… and, you know, the stacking. That'll keep him busy for a while." She came to stand beside him, looking down at the paper that he was yet to finish grading. "You need help?"

Charles just laughed. "I'm sorry, Arya, but I don't think you have sufficient knowledge on Shakespeare to help me grade essays."

"What's in a name?" she said, perhaps a bit too loudly, but it had the desired effect. His face lit up with amusement.

"That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet," he replied, and Arya sat on his desk, smiling.

"I haven't read much, but that one's my favorite."

He began humming, then; started drawing circles above her knee, making her shiver. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" he said. "Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer's lease hath all too short a date. Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, and often is his gold complexion dimmed. And every fair from fair sometimes declines, by chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed. But thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor lose possession of that fair thou owest… Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, when in eternal lines to time thou growest."

Arya struggled to keep the smile on her face. She hated that Shakespeare had mentioned Death in an otherwise very romantic poem; she hated that he'd ruined her moment with Charles. Charles didn't seem to notice her distress, so she did her best to salvage what she could from their intimacy.

"So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see," he breathed. "So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."

When she realized that the poem was finished, she smiled. "Alright, I take it back. That one's my favorite."

She hadn't even realized that she'd come to sit on his lap until he moved her hair to one side and placed a feather light kiss on her neck. A sigh escaped her, and she twisted slightly to be able to kiss him properly. Then, she just leaned against the armrest of his chair with her head on his shoulder, relishing his presence.

After a few minutes, she broke the quiet. "I was hoping we could train today," she said. "I don't want to get rusty."

"Nothing bad is going to happen, Arya."

"You don't know that." Upon noticing the chastising tone in her voice, she began backtracking. (He couldn't know about what Logan had told her. Not yet.) "And besides, I've got nothing to do today."

Charles' lips curled upwards in a questioning smile. "No classes?"

"Not until 4." Teasingly, she snuggled deeper against him and buried her head in his shoulder. "Please?"

"Spoiled little minx," he muttered, but Arya could see that he was holding back laughter. "Alright, alright. Just let me finish grading."

He turned his wheelchair back to the table, but she didn't get off, and he didn't question it. She proved to be a worthy distraction. While he read the remaining essays, Arya read alongside him and made jokes whenever she could. A job that should have taken little less than thirty minutes took an hour instead, but neither of them minded.

Once he had marked the last paper, Arya got her feet back underneath her and wheeled him out of the room. On their way to the pond, which was located in the very spacious courtyard at the back of the mansion, Charles asked her, "Have you been practicing without me?"

"Every day," she replied. "I've gotten the hang of Breaching three at once, but more than that… I can't."

"Yet," he said, making her smile. "We'll start small. For now, you can touch two mutants while Breaching another two without the aid of contact, at the same time. Then, we'll branch out from that."

She raised an eyebrow. "Where are you going to get three other mutants who are willing to sit and do nothing while I use them as dummies?"

"… Inarticulately put, but I suppose using the term 'guinea pig' would be worse." He nodded to a group of children, the younger ones, playing in the field, just past the pond. "I'm sure they'd be more than happy to help with your training, Arya. You are their favorite teacher, after all."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

Hank had mentioned something of the sort to Arya a few years back, but since then, she'd never caught wind of it. Charles look to be in disbelief by her reaction, and he laughed exasperatedly.

"They're absolutely taken with you," he said. "I wouldn't be surprised if one or two of the boys declared their love for you."

Arya rolled her eyes. "Now you're just preaching."

"Perhaps."

"Anyway," she said, leaning down to murmur into his ear. "Everyone knows that there's only one man for me."

He hummed. "And what a lucky man he is."

* * *

**So I started reading Charles Xavier fics again, to get some inspiration, and goddamn I forgot how charming he is HAHAHAHA.**

**What do y'all think so far? Make sure to leave a review! I really missed you guys! :D**


	37. Chapter 2 - A Question of Strength

_oh look another update_

_:(((_

_in other news, I made an account on AO3. I haven't been able to import much of my stuff, but it would mean a lot if you guys dropped by over there and dropped a kudos. Do any of y'all like Severus Snape? ;)_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

The weeks passed—slowly, quietly, and peacefully. Things were good.

With Charles helping her every now and again, Arya was able to broaden the use of her powers, eventually being able to grasp four mutations at once without the aid of contact. She was far from mastering it, but she knew that she could, given time. Charles had faith that, before the year was over, she'd be able to move on to grasping five mutations at once.

Truly, she was looking forward to it, to becoming more powerful. The more she could do, the better she could protect Charles. She'd nearly lost him ten years ago, during the series of events with Trask Industries—and years before that, when Erik had turned against them for the first time.

So many good men could have died if she'd been any weaker. The crisis could easily have been diverted, though, had she been _stronger_. And then there was the case with Moira's shooting…

Charles had been lucky that the ricocheted bullet hadn't killed him; it could have, Arya knew that—all because a woman from the CIA was stupid enough to start shooting at a mutant who could control metal.

"Nothing bad is going to happen, Arya," Charles had said to her just a few days ago.

He still had so much faith in non-mutants, still believing that they could live in harmony with them. But Arya knew better. She could sense it whenever she left campus—sense the constant, underlying fear; the wariness that the humans felt whenever they saw a stranger walking past. _This could be a mutant,_ was probably what they thought, every single time.

Charles had found relief in the fact that the world had gone quiet. No rallies, no debates. But that didn't mean that some new hell was beginning to form, just under the radar.

It didn't help that Arya's nightmares were becoming more vivid. They weren't even visions anymore; they were memories, most of the time, distorted to show her all the _maybes_ and _what-ifs_. But each one of them had a singular impression: _What if you aren't strong enough_?

Something was going to happen. No matter how much Charles had convinced himself that they were going to be okay, that they were going to live out the rest of their lives in peace, something was going to happen. And when shit hit the fan, Arya had to be strong enough. The Institute may have some pretty skilled mutants, but they were _kids_. They didn't know how to fight; Charles wasn't the only one who was vulnerable. There was Jean, and Ace, and all the other students who had never experienced a mutant fight in their lives.

For the past several years, Arya had practically thrown herself into training herself to become stronger. Accompanied with the teaching and the food runs, she was a considerably busy person.

It was late June when Charles activated Cerebro once again, in the hopes of finding more wayward mutants that they could take under their wing, and Arya saw an opportunity. It would let her see how far along she was from mastering Charles' telepathic ability.

"Can I try?" she asked, just as Hank was about to turn the key that would turn the machine off.

Charles tilted his head, looking at her with a deep frown. "Your past attempts weren't exactly… _encouraging_, Arya," he said, and if it weren't for the deep-seated concern in his voice, Arya would have been livid. "They've led me to believe that perhaps your mutation doesn't extend to being able to use something as complex as Cerebro."

"It's been years since I last tried," she retorted. "I've gotten stronger. I know I have." Because in the past twenty years, she'd only ever tried using Cerebro thrice.

The first time happened in 1963; Erik was gone, Charles was bent on finding their first group of students and starting up the school, and Arya wanted to help… but she was curious as well. Ultimately, her curiosity led to five hours of unconsciousness and three full days of bed rest.

The second time happened in 1968, and it had been a desperate plot to gain Charles' attention, if anything. He hadn't left the living room in a week, not even to eat or to bathe, and Arya knew that she had to do something. Hank had been anxious, but Arya followed through anyway, and it worked. She'd been able to catch a glimpse of the mutant world through Cerebro's eyes. It lasted for a few seconds, before the pain registered to her, but it had gotten Charles out of the living room.

They had then developed an arrangement: Arya would leave him to do whatever he wanted, but not at the cost of his health.

Charles had agreed, but it hadn't really changed much.

The third time, most recently, happened in 1977. It had been a spur of the moment decision, and Arya was certain that she'd only done it for the sake of getting her blood pumping again—finding excitement in something other than her nightmares. She'd lasted the better part of two minutes, and even then, she hadn't blacked out.

As she looked back on those experiences, Arya grew positive that she could do better. She had Jean's insight; training with a telepath other than Charles had given her a different perception, sort of a second opinion, on the nature of telepathy—how it could branch out into the minds of different people, all of which were always, in some way, unalike from the other.

Charles was sharing a skeptic look with Hank, and Arya pursed her lips. "Let me try it again," she insisted. "Charles, you'll be in my head all throughout, so you'll know how I'm doing. You can get me out as soon as it gets too rough."

He looked doubtful, but he could only ever hold out against her for so long. Arya would know, because it went both ways.

"Alright… if you really want to," he said.

"I really want to."

With a reluctant sigh, he rolled away from Cerebro's control panel, making space for Arya. She stood in front of the board, with the headpiece in her hands and a small smile of excitement on her face.

Charles' hand came up and gripped her wrist. Upon seeing the extremely distressed look on his face, she softened her gaze.

"Hank, you mind helping me with this?" She handed the headpiece to the young scientist. Once he had a firm hold on it, she slipped her gloves off and pocketed them. One hand moved to link fingers with Charles; the other arm remained bent by her side, palm facing the ceiling.

As her mutation dulled the colors in her vision, she felt Hank fit the headpiece onto her skull. The floor fell away. The walls of Cerebro turned misty, transparent, and she was thrown into the grey clouds.

As the forms of both humans and mutants flew past her, in a dizzying wave of red and white, Arya had to consciously remind herself that she was somewhere else. She wasn't in an ocean of intangible bodies. She was in the basement, in Cerebro, with Charles.

Rather unconsciously, she felt herself tighten her grip on his hand, and then she felt him do the same.

"You've Breached my power, Arya," she heard him say, but it was muffled, like he was saying it through a wall of water. "I need it back. Let me help you."

The surge of human and mutant minds slowed down around her, and she was able to form coherent thoughts again, able to comprehend Charles' request. But then she grew panicked. This had never happened before—her taking away his mutation while she was on Cerebro. During her two of her three past attempts, Charles had been a constant presence in her mind, anchoring her to reality. Now there was just his touch.

"What do I do?" she managed to say. "Charles, what do I do?"

"You're doing fine. Relax," he replied, a soothing murmur into her ear. "Just ease up a bit, so I can see you."

Immediately, she uncurled her fingers from his, and very nearly lost contact with him in the process. But he held fast, not as tight as before, but tight enough to let her know that he was still there. The feeling of him reassured her, and the rush of human and mutant thoughts came to a full halt.

She took in the sight of them all, standing so still. She had never reached this far into the process before.

_There you are,_ Charles said.

The prodding of his mental presence startled her a bit, making her lose some of her concentration. The haze of thoughts began moving again, before she caught herself with no small amount of effort.

_Very good, love,_ Charles commented. _You're doing remarkably well._

_There's so many of them,_ Arya thought. _How do you narrow it down?_

_The same way you do in the real world, when you're using my mutation,_ said Charles. _Concentrate. Think of a piece of information that you want to find, or the kind of mutation that you're looking for. Who do you want to see?_

She didn't know, really. What did she want to find? Now, she knew that she was strong enough to use Cerebro, though perhaps not as masterfully as Charles, but it could be enough. Looking around, she came to realize that her mind was still in New York. She recognized the shapes and lines surrounding her that formed buildings and streets and bridges. There were dozens of people milling about; a vast majority of them were humans, because Charles had decided to enroll the mutants in the immediate vicinity first, before spreading word of the Institute. There was no speck of red anywhere.

What did she want to find? Who—

_Erik,_ she suddenly thought. _Magneto._

The son of a bitch hadn't been brought back to custody, after they had broken him out of the Pentagon, even after he had attacked the _president of the United States_. Part of that unfair outcome had been Charles' fault—he didn't blame Erik for nearly _killing_ them ten years ago; he believed that Erik just deserved a proper second chance.

Arya wanted to believe that, but she couldn't bring herself to trust him again. Not after he had betrayed that trust twice already.

As expected, Charles predicted her train of thought. _Arya, don't,_ he said. _He's been quiet. And you know that revenge is never the answer—_

"I don't want revenge," she said, and it took her a moment to realize that she'd spoken out loud. "I just want to know where he is, what he's doing. We don't need another mutant controversy on our hands."

It was a lie, of course. She never liked lying to Charles, but what she was doing was for the best.

Memories of Erik came to mind, of how he had betrayed them. Her anger fueled her power.

_Erik Lehnsherr,_ she thought, and then humans and mutants alike were rushing past her again, a thick stream of white and red that stopped at an unfamiliar place, filled with people who spoke an unfamiliar language. Among the handful of red specks, Arya found him surrounded by white. But there was one other mutant who was with him, smaller in stature. Arya flexed her palm and she found that this one's mutation was centered in the mind as well.

Erik's voice echoed in her head. "_Pomóż matce w domu, w porządku, Nina?_"

"_W porządku!_" the smaller mutant replied. Her voice was high, lilting, like…

_Like a child's._

"_Czy dziś ugotować obiad, papa_?" the girl added. And Arya didn't know much about foreign languages, but she knew enough to be able to distinguish a word that easily translated to 'daddy'.

She tried to compute the possibilities of Erik being the girl's true father. He'd been gone ten years, quiet. For most people, he might have disappeared off the face of the earth. Ten years would be enough to change his identity, come up with a decent backstory to get accepted into a community—but for him to be able to find a woman who was willing to marry him and to father his child in such a short span of time?

She'd been musing for too long. Her concentration waned, and the figures of Erik and his daughter blurred into the white minds of the humans. Arya tried regaining control of the situation, but their thoughts were spinning faster than ever, overwhelming her in a deafening cacophony. She was seeing too much, she was _hearing_ too much.

Words and names, and names and words—they tumbled around and around in her head. It was an avalanche, a broken dam, a gate being opened. The end of the world—

The headpiece was tugged off of her head, and like a rubber band snapping back into place, she came back to herself, gasping for breath.

While she was in Cerebro, she'd ended up on Charles' lap. But she supposed that made sense. She decided to focus on things that made sense again, like the professor's vexation.

"I told you not to look for him," he said. The headpiece was far away from her, but his hand still held hers in a vice-like grip. "You were in there for too long."

Somehow, she managed to think of a suitable retort. "I was in there longer than I had been in any of the other tries," she said. "Now I know that I've gotten stronger."

"Is that knowledge as important as your life?"

She rolled her eyes, sending another flash of pain up her head. "I'm fine, Charles."

"_This_ isn't _fine_, Arya!" He touched her upper lip.

Once she had recovered from the sudden loudness of his voice, she brought her hand up to her lip. It came away bloody.

Hank came up from behind them and handed her a handkerchief. She pressed it against the underside of her nose, downplaying her nausea. "It happens all the time," she told Charles. "I just overtaxed myself a bit, that's all."

"A bit?" Charles repeated in astonishment, and she pointedly glared at him.

"I found what I wanted to find. More than that, actually."

"You found Erik?" Hank interjected, and the sharp curiosity was clear in his voice.

Arya nodded. "And his daughter."

Behind his glasses, Hank's eyes widened. "A daughter?" Then he turned to Charles. "Did you know about this?"

"No," said Charles, and Arya couldn't detect any lie in his voice. "I've never looked for him before. I was the one who let him go, and I know him enough to be sure that he's not going to start anything again."

Arya sighed in exasperation. "I don't like it, Charles. The kid's got powers too. If Erik already knows, he's going to hone that, and things could go bad again."

"You and I both know that Erik isn't capable of that, Arya." The rare expression of anger returned to the professor's face. "And the child can't be more than ten years old. Could you really bring yourself to put her down?"

"I don't want to _kill_ her, Charles. I'm just saying that we have to be careful with her—with _him_." Her eyes flashed. "I won't take any chances when it comes to that bastard. Not again."

And just as quickly as it had come, the hardness in Charles' eyes disappeared. "We'll argue about this some other time," he said, cupping her face. "For now, you need to rest. I'll take you to your room."

Normally, having Charles carry her up to her room on his wheelchair would have been an interesting prospect for Arya. She'd be more than willing—normally. But with the fresh wounds on her pride, she didn't want to show any more weakness. She was supposed to be the strong one, out of both of them. She wasn't going to be the damsel in distress.

"No," she told Charles. "I can do it. Just, let me stand—"

But as soon as she did, a wave of nausea hit her full on. Her vision dimmed, the world started spinning, and she quickly returned to Charles' lap. His familiar warmth acted as an anchor, and she clung to his shoulder, the only solid thing she could feel.

"Make yourself comfortable, love," Charles said, and she vaguely heard the smugness in his tone. "Hank, many thanks for your help, as always. Turn it off now, please."

He began rolling them down the metallic halls of the basement. The part they were in was a restricted area, among a handful of others, for lower level students. Supposedly, there could be some who'd be chosen to receive the knowledge of Cerebro's whereabouts, but that was yet to happen.

"Do you feel the need to vomit?" Charles suddenly asked.

Arya groaned. "Don't remind me. Talk about something else."

For a moment, he was quiet. And then, "You didn't need to try Cerebro, you know. You never did," he said. "There are other ways to assess your progress."

She opened her mouth, but her reply was lost to a sudden rise of vomit. She was barely able to swallow it back down, shivering in disgust. Charles didn't speak again until she was safely tucked underneath the blankets of her bed; at which time, she stared up at him with bleary eyes, refusing to fall asleep before she had heard what he wanted to say.

"You don't have anything to prove, Arya," he said, breaking the tense silence between them. "Not to me, not to Hank, not to anybody else in the Institute—everyone knows that you're one of the most capable people here."

"That's the problem, isn't it?" she said, and she struggled to follow up her statement. "When it comes down to it, there's still going to be someone who can beat me in a fight. I don't want that. Being strong isn't enough for me anymore. I want to be the strongest."

He leaned closer, putting his hand on her arm. A fretful look had come onto his face, and at the moment, Arya was only irritated by it.

"What are you so afraid of?" he asked.

She stared at him in incredulity. Why would he even need to ask that question anymore? "I'm afraid of losing you," she said—the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm afraid of being weak, of not being strong enough to protect you. When Moira's bullet hit you, I could have lost you. When that stadium was crashing down all around us, I could have lost you."

"You can't stop things that are out of your control." He touched her face, undoubtedly in an effort to calm her down, but she was adamant.

"God, you can't even walk, Charles! Not without losing your powers. What would happen if, during those precious few hours, someone takes you away from me?"

"You would find me. I know you would."

"What if they kill you before that?" The thought alone made her heart clench. "Then, all I'd find is a body. I can't bring people back to life. No one can. What do you expect me to do then?"

He went quiet. Whether he was thinking of something to say, or just truly speechless, Arya couldn't tell. But then he was getting out of his chair and pulling himself onto the bed. Sighing, she moved to help him.

By the time he was leaning against the pillows, both of them were sufficiently drained. A wispy chuckle escaped Charles' lips, and Arya couldn't help but to smile in return. He slid down the upholstery until he was lying on her pillow as well, head tilted to face her—eye to eye, and nose to nose.

"Arya Jacobs," he said, a breathy murmur in the stillness of the room. "I love you with all my heart, more than I can fathom into words… and I truly _hate_ arguing with you."

She smiled as he drew a lock of hair away from her face. Her eyelids were beginning to droop, but she still felt him probing at her mental walls. She groaned unhappily. "Stay out of my head."

_You aren't going to lose me, Arya,_ he said. _I plan on loving you until the world stops spinning, until the stars fall from the sky, until the very end of time._

His voice in her head soothed her frayed nerves, eased her into the world of dreams. And just like that, she was asleep.

* * *

Arya was surprised to find that Charles was still with her when she woke up. They were facing one another, as they had been a few hours prior, but her head had wound up lower than where the pillow could support her; his chin rested on top of her head, her nose was close to his chest, and even in her drowsy state, she could see that he was breathing too shallowly for someone who was supposedly asleep.

She grunted into his chest. "How did you stay still for so long?"

He shook against her as a chuckle escaped him. "I fell asleep too, for a while," he said. "I just woke up earlier than you."

His voice had such a husky quality about it that was always present whenever he just woke up, and it never failed to send shivers of delight down Arya's spine. "Give me a few more minutes," she muttered, and he chuckled again.

"Alright, love."

Snuggling closer to him, she closed her eyes again and managed to recall the argument they'd had just before the both of them fell asleep.

She had made her point. She had finally explained to him why she was hell-bent on becoming stronger. "I'm afraid of being weak, of not being strong enough to protect you," she had said—but even that wasn't the whole truth.

She wasn't just afraid of failing to protect him. She was afraid of failing to protect _herself_. Because if she wasn't there with him when another threat came… then what was the point of it all? All the training, all the migraines—what would they mean if she couldn't follow through?

There must have been something off about her face, because suddenly Charles gave her a gentle shake, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You're still not thinking about that stupid fight we had, right?" he said, and she couldn't help but to smile.

"No," she lied. "I was actually thinking about what you said after the fight."

He grinned. "I could be a poet."

"Evidently."

"And all the dedications would be in your name."

And then she was grinning as well, as his words echoed in her head. _I plan on loving you until the world stops spinning, until the stars fall from the sky, until the very end of time._

He'd said it using telepathy, and there was something so incredibly intimate about receiving words of affection directly from the mind. There were some emotions that just couldn't properly be conveyed with the lips, and his voice in her mind had always been more _real_—

But she stopped there, because he had been in her mind. The memory of Logan's words to her was at the forefront of everything else, clear as day for anyone who managed to get inside her head.

"_Some teachers mentioned your name once or twice, but never so detailed."_

_ "And Charles?"_

_ "He talked about you a few times during his classes, said you were the love of his life and all that… I'm sorry, kid."_

"You were in my head," Arya said, doing her best to keep the panic out of her voice. "When you said all those things, you were in my head."

"It was the only way I could think of to really be able to express my feelings for you," he replied, and she was startled to find the beginnings of melancholy on his face. "But I didn't read your mind, if that's what you're worried about."

Immediately, she began backtracking. "No, Charles, it's not that—"

"It's all right, Arya," he said, and there was enough sincerity in his tone for her to believe him. "I'm not foolish enough to believe that you'd trust me with _all_ of your secrets, and that's okay. Truly. Lord knows I've got some of mine." She relaxed a bit, at that, and he smiled. "I'd never willingly invade your privacy, or force anything out of you that you don't want me to know… unless it's a life and death situation, of course—at which time, I would do so with barely a second thought."

If anything, that statement only reassured her that he hadn't been lying—he really hadn't read her thoughts—and she didn't know whether to feel glad or extremely guilty.

Plastering a smile, she said, "I can respect that."

* * *

_Y'all better suck up every moment of fluff because something's gonna happen soooooon. [evil laugh]_


	38. Chapter 3 - Water Under the Bridge

_NOT SURE WHEN THE NEXT UPDATE IS GONNA BE I STILL HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANYTHING PAST CHAPTER 6 AAAAAAA AAA AA AAAAAA A-_

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Three days passed, and by then, Arya had finally convinced herself that maybe Erik had really gone quiet, and that nothing bad was going to happen—for another week, at least.

She was just finishing up a lecture for class, and afterwards, she was going to bring the group outside for some exercise, when she suddenly heard a sound that was very out of place, considering it was in the middle of spring, and they were in New York.

It was the sound of water splashing, rather wildly. Then, she heard a voice call, "Help!"

Immediately she ran out the mansion and onto the backyard, where the pond was. It was the only body of water large enough and close enough to have made such a commotion. And sure enough, Arya saw that the surface was still rippling with waves, flooding the grass.

A boy stood there. Arya quickly looked him over: surfer blond hair, sky blue eyes, tan skin. He couldn't have been more than 17. She had never seen him before, but she was certain that he was the one who had caused the pond to act up.

He was looking at her with fearful eyes. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. He said he wanted to see my powers a-and I didn't notice how close he was to the water, and he j-just—"

"Who?" Arya demanded.

"The professor. He—"

She didn't let him finish. She didn't need to hear any more. As the pieces quickly flew together in her head—the new arrival, the movement of the water, the absence of the professor—she retreated a few steps backwards before making a running start and diving into the pond.

Despite what everyone in the Institute thought, the pond was actually anything but shallow. Arya didn't know its exact depth, but even when she had fully submerged herself, it still seemed to go on for another ten feet or so.

The sun was high in the sky, penetrating the water's surface and letting Arya see the figure of Charles. He was wildly thrashing his arms about, trying to swim upwards, but his legs, paralyzed, were pulling him down. His wheelchair had sunk to the bottom already.

When Arya's parents were still alive, she had never been a good swimmer. But she became decent at it once she'd moved to Carlsbad, mostly because of Chloe's patience and enthusiasm. Her lessons greatly helped Arya as she kicked against the water, desperately swimming towards Charles, who she hoped had been able to get some air in his lungs beforehand.

Once she reached him, she grabbed his outstretched arm and heaved him up until they were evenly floating in front of one another.

His eyes were still open, and he was looking at her. Still conscious.

Wrapping her arm beneath his armpits and across his chest, she began leading them back to the surface. Her lungs were burning from the exertion and lack of air, but she managed to ignore it. _You're not losing him today,_ she firmly told herself. _Not today._

For the next few agonizing moments, seconds felt more like years, and there was nothing but the sound of her treading water. And then they broke through the surface, and it was as if the world had exploded all around her.

Charles gulped in large mouthfuls of air, his hand tightly gripping her forearm. Arya spluttered and struggled to get them closer to land. Jean was there, along with a student named Carter, both of which were holding their arms out.

Arya felt Charles being pulled away from her. She started panicking, then, an irrational part of her thinking that perhaps an enemy mutant had somehow broken into the campus and was working to capture the professor. But then she caught the look of determination and concentration on Jean's face, saw the faintest twinge of light blinking in her skull, and she calmed down.

She allowed Jean to pull Charles away, but not before giving him an extra push. He floated for a bit before Carter was finally able to reach him and lift him onto dry land. Arya felt Jean tugging her closer to shore, and she gave in completely to Jean's efforts, helping her by kicking at the water beneath.

Carter reached down and dragged her out of the water. She lay there on the grass, continuing to fill her lungs with the cool spring air until her heart stopped pounding dents into her ribcage. It was only then that she registered that Carter had asked her a question, and was waiting for a reply.

She blinked. "What?"

"The professor's wheelchair," he said. "Where is it?"

"Still at the bottom," she replied, exhaling loudly. "Tell Jean to stay a while. We'll get it out of the water in a few minutes. For now, can you please just get the professor to his study?"

"Should I let the kid in too?"

Grudgingly, she nodded her head. "I think Charles had already gotten it into his head to enroll the boy, even though he almost got him killed. Go on."

She gestured for him to leave her be. Hesitantly, he turned, and after some quick, muttered explanations, he lifted Charles off the ground and started towards the mansion. The newcomer followed behind them, head bowed as the gathered students gawked at him with judging stares.

Then, all of them flinched slightly, before turning around and walking off to God knew where. It happened so quickly and simultaneously that Arya easily figured out that it was Charles' doing. Of course it was. He never wanted any mutant to feel out of place in the Institute.

She felt a strong emotion bubbling up in her chest, then—anger, she realized. She didn't know why she felt angry. Accidents were no rarity in the campus, considering how inexperienced most of the students were. Still, Charles was safe. She had no right to feel angry.

There was the sound of crunching grass, and then a head of fiery red hair entered Arya's field of vision.

Jean was gazing down at her in both worry and curiosity. "Professor Jacobs, are you hurt?" she asked. "Should I call Stitch?"

Stitch was their resident healer. He had been one of the very first students to enroll in the school, but he had only stayed under Charles' tutelage for two or three years, considering he had already honed his healing abilities to near perfection during the war, where he had been drafted.

Arya shook her head. Apart from a few sore joints, she was fine. "Just help me up, please," she said.

Jean grabbed her outstretched hands and pulled her to her feet. The world spun for a moment, and Arya was positive that she would have fallen back down to the ground if Jean hadn't been there to keep her up.

"Are you sure you're alright, professor?" Jean insisted. "You're a bit pale."

"It's nothing that I can't handle, Jean. Don't worry about me." Arya gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and then let go so she could remove her glove.

Without question, Jean linked their fingers again, and Arya felt herself adapt to the girl's mutation. She made sure to keep her grip light, so Jean could still use her powers. Raising her other hand, she closed her eyes and searched the bottom of the pond. She grazed against something and she felt Jean squeeze her hand.

"You feel it?" Arya said.

"It's heavy."

"Just do your best. I'll help you."

In quiet concentration, they began lifting the wheelchair up from the pond floor. It caught against something, though, and it refused to budge. Arya took a peek at Jean and saw that she was having trouble with it, so she hurried to help. In no time, the wheelchair was floating up the pond in a steady ascent.

Jean's power was a lot like Erik's, but more temperamental. Charles had said that that could only be expected. While Erik's mutation enabled him to move any kind of metal, Jean's mutation enabled her to move anything dense and solid. It had a wider pool of options, and varying degrees of success, all depending on what kind of object they were moving. As it had been with Erik, the heavier the object was, the harder it would be to move it, much less lift it.

Too much strain could prove fatal, which was why Arya took it upon herself to take most of the weight. Her mind was more used to the pressure. She remembered how, back in Cuba, she and Erik had lifted a submarine out of the sea. A wheelchair was nothing compared to that.

In a few minutes, the wheelchair sat on the grass in front of them, dripping wet but no worse for wear. Jean wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead as Arya gave her an appraising glance. From the moment Charles brought the girl through the gates of the Institute, Arya had known that she was something special. There was an untouched reserve of power within her, enough to move mountains.

Jean was yet to tap into it, and that was what Charles was training her to do.

"See? No biggie," Arya said, placing her hand on Jean's shoulder as a sign of her deep regard.

Jean smiled widely. A slight blush crept up her pale neck. "Are you going to see Professor Xavier now?"

"Yeah. We have a lot to talk about."

As if sensing the underlying grimness in her words, Jean nodded, frowning slightly. "I should probably get back inside," she said. "I have class in a few minutes."

"Thank you for your help, Jean."

She offered another smile before turning around and marching back into the mansion. Arya watched her go, recalling a period when she was that young. At the time, she still hadn't been exposed to evil mutants and citywide disasters. She had been exposed to death twice over, but during her time with Chloe, she had mostly been exposed to volleyball matches and cheery adolescents.

How times had changed.

Sighing, she went to get a towel from the mansion, so as to clean Charles' wheelchair from the pond's muck. She stopped when she saw a student standing by the back entrance, his curious eyes on her. She recognized him as one of children in her most recent class, the one she was supposed to bring outside for exercise.

Considering the amount of time that had passed, half an hour exercise was entirely out of the question.

"Are the others still in the classroom?" she asked him.

He nodded his head.

"Please go tell them that class is dismissed, Tristan. We won't have that workout today after all."

He nodded again and, beaming, ran down the hall to inform his classmates. There was a slight skip in his step, and Arya knew why. No workout meant they had an hour of free time, before their next class. _Lucky,_ she mused.

On her way to the secondary storage room, where the towels would be found, she caught a glimpse of the professor's office out of the corner of her eye. She wasn't in the mood to speak with him about the pond incident, or about the newcomer, so she walked right past.

She needed to cool down first.

After changing into some dry clothes and retrieving two towels of the right size—large enough to soak in all of the pond water, but small enough to be able to slip into the important junctions—she returned to the backyard and got to cleaning the wheelchair.

Hank had used stainless steel when he had built it, so cleaning the limbs and the wheels and such was easy. The problem lied in the seat. The upholstery was drenched; Arya pressed down on it with the heel of her palm and some of the liquid was squeezed out before soaking back into the padding.

Arya scowled in disgust. If she left it out to dry, it would acquire a stench. She had to draw the water out, or wash out the pond-water herself, but as far as she knew, Hank hadn't made it so that the seat could be removed.

She rocked on her heels, pondering on what she could do to draw the water out. Then an idea came to her, and she couldn't help but to scoff. It was a good idea, but she didn't particularly like it.

_Oh don't be petty,_ she thought. _It's not like he _meant_ to nearly drown your boyfriend._

She squeezed the pond water out of the towels and brought them back inside, so they could be washed. When she had handed them over to the housekeeper, she set off for Charles' office with an exasperated sigh, knowing that the newcomer would still be there. Normally, the professor's orientations lasted for an hour or so. They'd still be there.

And she was right. She knocked on the door and, after hearing Charles' word of approval, opened it.

The professor sat behind his desk, in one of the swivel chairs that were there just in case he couldn't be on his wheelchair, for one reason or another. On a wooden chair placed directly across from him sat the surfer boy from before.

He looked calmer now, more composed, but Arya thought that she saw fear flicker across his eyes once he saw her.

Forcing a softer exterior, she said, "What's your name, kid?"

"D-Don Lake, miss."

She scowled. "Okay, first of all: none of that 'miss' business. And second of all: neat surname. Really fits."

Don blinked, speechless at the sudden change of tone. Charles, as expected, caught the coy look on Arya's face.

"Don, meet your physical education teacher: Professor Arya Jacobs," he said, smirking. "I assure you, she's not as cold as she makes herself out to be."

Arya ignored that obvious, though playful jab, and nodded pointedly at the new enrollee. "You think you can help me with a little water problem?"

"What is it?"

"The professor's wheelchair… from when, you know, you sort of waterlogged it." Seeing the doubtful but equally guilty look on his face, she walked into the room, making him stand up, either out of respect or alarm. She smirked. "Come on. Think of it as paying me back for your little lapse of judgment."

That seemed to have gotten the job done. The doubt faded from his face, replaced by sheer determination. "I'll do it… but I'm still not very good with controlling it… I'm sure you already know that."

"Don't worry. I'll help."

Don frowned. "How?"

"You'll see my power soon enough, kid," said Arya. "Follow me."

Charles was giving her the familiar odd look, and she raised an eyebrow at him. "You wanna come with, professor?"

"No, thank you." The corner of his lip twitched. He always found it amusing whenever she called him 'professor'. Then she felt the familiar probing of his telepathy, poking at her mind.

_Be careful, Arya,_ he said.

Winking, she turned and left the room with Don in tow. The boy was jumpy—whether it was because he was scared of her or he was just normally as such, she didn't know. Under different circumstances, something like that would have bothered her. But she couldn't bring herself to just forget what had happened with Charles.

She could forgive him once he'd dried the wheelchair.

As they stood in front of it, Don wouldn't stop fidgeting. He was clearly nervous, and maybe even a bit upset, because when Arya raised her head to throw him an annoyed glance, she noticed that the surface of the pond was rippling again, and tiny waves were once more swamping the grass.

Arya slipped her glove off and grabbed his hand. The water calmed down and Don looked at her with wide eyes.

"You really need to calm down, Don," she told him. "You won't be able to control it if you're always on edge. Deep breaths. Come on, do it with me. In, out… In, out… In, out…" She offered a smile. "Better. Now, your mutation—describe it to me."

"M-My mutation?"

"Yes. How does it work?" When he still didn't answer, only stared at her like she'd grown a second head, she elaborated, "When you control the water, does it feel like a tangible thing? Can you feel it flowing through your fingertips?"

He nodded very slowly.

"Alright. Now, first off, in my experience, it's easier to keep your mutation focused on a certain subject when you're holding your hand out—like this." She let go of his hand and demonstrated for him, stretching her arm out with her palm pointed at the wheelchair. Hesitantly, he followed suit.

"It's easier, right?"

"Y-Yeah," he said. "I can still feel the water in the pond, but… it's like it's just in the background, you know? The water in the wheelchair, I can feel it _more_."

He was getting the hang of it. "That's good, Don. Do you think you can get the water out? Do you know what to do?"

His lips remained closed, but he nodded in a very resolute manner that reminded Arya of Sean. At the memory of the curly-haired mutant, she smiled wistfully, but banished the thought as soon as she saw a stream of water starting to come out of the pads of Charles' wheelchair.

After another minute, the wheelchair was completely dry, and the pond-water that Don had strained out of it was floating in the air, compressed into a sphere. Red-faced from the exertion, Don carefully guided the sphere so that it floated above the pond. He dropped it, and the water lost its shape, splashing back into the pond.

"Nice job, kid," Arya said, squeezing his shoulder and nodding in approval. He was tired but he looked pretty proud of himself. "Stick around. You'll get even better at it. For now, though, you should probably get some rest. Has Professor Xavier finished speaking with you?"

He nodded.

"Come on, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

He was very shaky on his feet the whole trip to the dorms. Afraid that he'd fall down the stairs without guidance, she accompanied him upstairs to the boy's dorms, where she promptly handed him off to one of the resident mutants.

Once she was sure that he was safe, she retrieved Charles' wheelchair and rolled it into the house and into his office. There was a glint in his eye when she entered. She looked at him suspiciously. "What?"

"You like him," he said.

"Of course I like him," she replied. "I have to like him. I'm his teacher."

Arya moved the wheelchair closer to where Charles was. He reached across and placed his hands on the armrests, raising himself off the swivel chair. Arya lifted his legs so as to lessen the weight, and in a matter of seconds, he was seated once again on the wheelchair that many people knew him for.

Raising his eyes and looking at her in a very smug way, he said, "All is forgiven, then?"

"I'm not mad at _him_. I'm mad at _you_ for being stupid enough to get too close to the water."

"Well, it's not like I knew what his mutation was." Arya raised her eyebrows, and he backtracked. "Alright, maybe I had an _inkling_. But I didn't think that he could make a huge bloody wave out of our fishpond!"

She laughed, then. She couldn't help it. And just like that, all manner of tension had gone away. She sat on his desk and pulled his chair closer with her feet, so that she could run her fingers through his hair, and his eyelids fluttered shut. She liked how soft the strands felt in her hands.

"We should go out tonight," he murmured, eyes still closed. "I've missed going out into town with you."

She sighed and stopped combing through his hair. "You know we can't do that, Charles. I can change my face up a bit with make-up, but I don't expect you to do the same. People know who we are. We can't just… _go out_ anymore."

It was the depressing truth and Charles knew it. He opened his eyes. There was a troubled glaze there that made Arya's heart clench.

"That day in Washington…" He shook his head. "I knew that it had to happen. The fate of all mutants depended on it. But I just wish that…"

Arya continued running her fingers through his hair with renewed vigor. "I know," she said, understanding what he wanted to say. "I think about it too, sometimes—about what would have happened if we didn't do what we did. Maybe we'd be able to go out, but people would still think of us as monsters. And Raven would be…"

She trailed off. She didn't want to have to say it, and Charles understood that. He nodded in understanding and said nothing more of it.

The silence stretched on. Arya didn't like it.

"Tell you what," she said. "I'll go into town today and buy two full tubs of ice cream. And then tonight, I get one of Hank's _many_ videotapes, and we watch a movie in my room. Just the two of us. What do you say?"

For a moment, she thought he was going to refuse. But then a smile edged up his cheeks, and he placed a hand on her leg, rubbing her knee. "I say you make it _three_ tubs, miss Jacobs, because it's been a while since I've had ice cream."


	39. Chapter 4 - Twilight

**Trust me, I've been waiting for this update just like you guys. xD**

**I'm yet to finish writing the rest of this story, but so far I've done everything up to Chapter 12 - still unedited, but we'll get to that eventually. I'm afraid that it'll take longer for me to finish this story than I'd originally planned. I'm moving out of home and into a dormitory next week, right before classes start. And to be quite frank, I am terrified. I've never been away from my family for more than two days. I have roommates that I'm friends with, but still.**

**I'm going to try to speedrun this shit and have it finished by next week, but it's highly unlikely. But not to worry, ellesmer won't abandon ship! We WILL get through this. Just please, be patient with me. My nerves are out of whack and I've just been so exhausted this past month, I barely got to touch this story. I'm sorry you guys. :(**

**But enough drama about me. Let's get back to Charya!**

**(WARNING: Slight sexual content in this chapter. Nothing too explicit, as I'm not willing to change the rating just yet, but you'll get the picture.)**

**Do forgive any errors, and enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

After eating dinner at the mansion, Arya went into town to buy ice cream, as she had promised Charles. It was meant to be a quick trip; the movie was waiting, and neither she nor Charles could sleep _too_ late, because they still had classes to teach in the morning.

She had already paid and was on her way to the car when she saw Rob. He was standing all the way on the other side of the parking lot, but despite the distance, it was obvious that he was staring right at her.

Something like that normally wouldn't have fazed her. Anyone who knew Creepy Robby was bound to become a subject of one of his stare-downs, and they'd get used to it. But what got Arya's heart racing was the fact that his eyes were glowing red, and he had a sort of sneer on his face that didn't look particularly friendly.

She gawked. In an astonished whisper, she said, "You're a mutant?"

There was a reason that she couldn't have known, and that was because she had never removed her gloves outside of the campus before. Nothing had ever happened to force her to such extreme measures.

But in all her years of knowing Rob, he had _never _shown any kind of emotion. Joy, sadness, anger—a lot of people thought that he couldn't feel anything at all, and that it was some kind of aftereffect from having participated in two wars. His face had always been blank, detached, which was why Arya felt more frightened than she should have been when she saw the apparent, angry scowl resting on his mouth.

He took a step forward, and she took a step back; in doing so, her back hit the side of her car. The dull thud snapped her out of her shocked stupor. Hurriedly, she slipped both her gloves off and thrust her hands out, making sure that he saw the symbols on her palms. She wasn't sure why she thought that it would frighten him, but she couldn't think of anything else to do.

"What do you want, Rob?" she demanded. "Food? Money? Shelter? I can get you all those things. You don't have to hurt me."

As soon as the words left her mouth, the red light in his eyes grew brighter. It felt as though his gaze was burning into her skin, cutting into flesh, tearing through muscle, searing through bone—

Suddenly, Arya felt something poking at her mental walls. It didn't feel like Charles, and it definitely wasn't Jean.

Arya willed the tendrils of her mutation forward. They shot through the air like bullets, bullets that only she could see.

She made to Breach his mind and stop his mutation in its tracks, but she found her path blocked by an iron wall. No matter where she looked, she couldn't find a crack that she could force herself into. It surpassed even Charles' mental ability to block her, which startled her.

A look of unpracticed ease was on his face. Desperately, Arya tried knocking down his walls with blunt force. It didn't work. Some part of her hadn't expected it to. The only option left was to touch him, but he was still so far away.

He was still prodding at her mind, looking for a way in. His attacks were heavy, relentless, forcing Arya's face to scrunch up in concentration. She refused to grant him entry, refused to let him know about Charles and the Institute.

Inwardly, she cursed herself. Why had she never thought to look more into Rob? Why had she never thought that his constantly staring at _her_ was suspicious? Why had she never thought to see if he might've known her, or if he might've been a mutant? _Stupid, stupid, stupid—_

And then quickly, unexpectedly, she felt him slip into her mind.

She tried, frantically, to chase him down and throw him back out, but he was already in too deep.

She'd imagined the inside of her head to be like a massive office. Behind the desk was where she sat, holding a pen and writing down every single thought that crossed her mind. Standing by the walls were dozens and dozens of filing cabinets, where her memories and ideas were stored away in folders bursting with sheets of paper.

And if someone, without her consent, chose to read her mind (which had never happened before), she'd imagined it to be like having a tidal wave crash over the room. The desk, the papers and the filing cabinets would be swept away, free to be read by the person who had invaded her privacy.

But it didn't happen like that. Instead, it was like having a ghost slip into the room. Her mind numbed, and it was as if all her thoughts ceased to exist for that moment in time. The ghost flitted across the room, looking through the filing cabinets but never actually paying attention to any of the written words.

It was looking for something very specific.

It stopped at a corner in the room, where the shadows of her mind could be found. There, the ghost pulled out a folder, opened it, and Arya's mind was suddenly filled with her one waking nightmare.

All the people she had ever come to know rested on the ground, lined up like prisoners who had been shot on death row. Their faces were unseeing, and their blood pooled beneath them, soaking into the soil and coloring it black. She looked at each of their faces in horror.

Her parents, Chloe, Charles, Raven, Hank, Alex, Sean, and Jean… even Erik was there, and she barely felt anything for him anymore—and she was standing above them, untouched and alive.

The vision was whipped away from her, and then she was standing in the parking lot again. But she was in front of Rob, with her hand holding his wrist in a vice like grip, and she could vaguely recall that it hadn't been like that when he'd entered her mind.

Rob was looking at her with wide eyes. "How did you do that?"

It was the first time she'd ever heard his voice. It was hoarse, scratchy, like he hadn't used it in a long time (which could very well be the case.) She hated it.

"If you weren't an old man, and if we weren't in a public parking lot, you would be dead right now," she growled.

The shock left his face, replaced by casual disenchantment. "So you can halt mutations," he remarked. "Is that all you can do?"

"I'm not telling you _anything_."

"I know who you are." It sounded vaguely like a threat. "I know that you were involved with what happened in D.C. ten years ago, and I know that you know who and where Magneto is."

She backed up but kept her hand on his wrist, not willing to let his powers free just yet. "What do you want?"

"You're weak," he said. A steely glint crept into his eyes. "I want to make you stronger."

"_Why_?"

"So you can protect the ones you love. So you can keep them from dying, let them have a full life… Something I wasn't able to do when I could still do it."

_So he's lost someone,_ Arya thought, trying to figure out his motives. _In the war, maybe. _That could explain the constant, haunted look in his eyes, as if he had seen every horrible thing there was to see.

She narrowed her eyes. "How do I know that I can trust you?"

"You can't," he said. "But you have to trust me anyway."

"I don't _have_ to trust _anyone_, especially not _you_."

"You will if you want your husband to stay alive."

Glaring, Arya struggled to think of a biting response. Of course he knew about Charles; if she had to guess, she'd say that it was him who had given her that frightening vision. He must not have read her mind after all, not the entirety of it, at least. He knew Charles, but he didn't know that they weren't married.

"He's not my husband," she ended up saying, and to her own surprise, she sounded without conviction.

If Rob noticed, he didn't show it. "But you love him," was all he said. "He is vulnerable, along with the rest of them. And I can assure you that they will die, unless you let me help you."

_Your failure; all your loved ones, lying dead in front of you._ That should have been enough. She wanted it to be.

But she just couldn't bring herself to trust a complete stranger—a _mutant_ who had practically been stalking her for the past ten years. Had she been younger, more naïve, she would have agreed to his proposition without a second thought. But now she knew that there were mutants like Erik, those who strived to gain your trust and discard it whenever they pleased, again and again.

And it would be her who paid the price.

"I want to get stronger. I will," she told him. "But I've known you for years and today is the first time you've talked to me, about _power_. I'm sorry, but it seems too convenient. I can't trust you."

Slowly, she pulled her hand away from his wrist, and she saw the bright light of his mutation return to the center of his head. Pulsating. Stretching outward.

She barely had time to register how stupid of an idea it was, to let go of him, before she was enveloped in yet another vision.

She was back on that beach in Cuba. Their old group—Hank, Alex, Sean, and Raven—were huddled around a lone figure lying on the sand.

Erik was there, cradling Charles' head on his lap. Arya was prepared for the pain in his eyes, his bared teeth. She wasn't prepared for the open wound that was on his chest, gushing blood and tainting his X-suit red. He wasn't breathing.

"Stop," Arya said. A strangled whisper. "Take it away."

It all seemed too real. The only thing that kept her anchored to sanity was the memory of that day, the real memory. Moira's bullet hadn't killed him, only paralyzed him. He was alive. He was waiting for her, back at the mansion.

Erik began strangling Moira. _It's not real,_ Arya told herself. But the image of Charles' unseeing eyes still made her sick.

Rob's hoarse voice reached her ears.

"Nothing is more hateful than failing to protect the one you love," he said. "Let me help you. Let me make you strong."

Charles was silent, unmoving. The light in his eyes was gone, but he looked to be at peace, surrounded by the ones he loved.

Arya never wanted to see the scene again.

"Okay," she said.

The vision dissipated. Rob was staring hard at her. "Meet me here tomorrow, at sunset."

She nodded. Wordlessly, she turned around and entered her car. She placed the grocery bag on the passenger seat, pushed the key into the ignition, turned it, and drove away. In the rearview mirror, she saw Rob standing in the middle of the parking lot, watching her go. She turned a corner, and he was gone.

What the hell was she going to say to Charles?

* * *

_Nothing,_ she told herself, on her way upstairs to her room. _You'll tell him nothing._ He didn't need to know. She could go out in secret, make up some half-assed excuse that was reasonable enough for him to believe it. Oh, but she hated lying to him.

She tried balancing out her guilt with the fact that she'd be improving fairly quicker with her abilities (with Rob's help), and that Charles would be proud of her. It wasn't enough. And when she saw him sitting on her bed, sans wheelchair, she was barely able to keep it together.

"About time," he said, holding his arms out to her.

She put the ice cream down and snuggled up to him, breathed him in. "Sorry, I got held up… by their cash register, no less."

"Again?"

"You really can't get a decent fix in Westchester nowadays, can you?"

And then she felt him move closer to her, tangling their legs together. She pulled back, wide-eyed, and he was grinning coyly. "Are you so sure about that?"

"You took the serum," she murmured, unsure what she should feel. He had his legs back, but for the price of his telepathy; she couldn't know which was more important, then, with his body pressed against hers and his breath on her neck.

"It'll only last for a couple of hours. Besides…" He pulled her collar down a bit and placed a chaste kiss on her shoulder. "I've missed you."

Despite herself, a slight blush crept into her cheeks. Tilting her head, she captured his lips with hers, deciding to humor him. For a few precious moments, she stayed in that state of joy. She knew she would never get tired of him. Never.

The elation, the whirlwind of sensations—she wanted to bottle it all up and keep it with her forever. But then, she remembered what had happened in the parking lot of the grocery store, what she had agreed to. She remembered that she would lie to him—would _have_ to lie.

She gave him one last kiss before pulling away, forcing a smile onto her face. "The ice cream will melt if we don't eat it soon," she gently scolded.

"There's a freezer."

"No, we'll finish our little _session_ later, _after_ the movie."

Charles groaned, obviously disgruntled by her decision. After twenty years of being together, Arya had learned that the only way to make him feel better was to annoy him. Not enough to make him mad, but just enough to make him want to get back at her. She handed him a spoon and a tub of ice cream, and flicked his ear.

"Ow!"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, like that actually hurt."

"It did!"

Humming, she put the movie in, snatched a spoon and a tub of ice cream for herself, and returned to sit beside Charles. Shoulder to shoulder, they pulled the lids off of the cartons and took their first bites of the ice cream, just as the movie started.

Arya watched the opening credits with a growing sense of excitement. From time to time, she would glance at Charles, wanting to see his reaction to every single thing, and little by little, her conversation with Creepy Robby slipped away into the back of her mind.

Some country-folk song started playing from the TV, and Arya reverted her attention to the movie. Two men were driving down a straight road; it was dark out, and they were singing along to a cassette tape. After a few minutes, the tape broke, and they started playing a Name That Tune game.

Charles was amused by it so far. The acting was great, but Arya knew what was going to happen, hence her excitement.

Eventually, the men's conversation turned to The Twilight Zone, the series.

"_Hey,"_ the passenger said, after a few minutes of banter from the both of them. _"You wanna see something _really_ scary?"_

"_You bet,"_ said the driver.

"_Really?"_

"_Yeah!"_

"_Okay, this is really, really scary now."_

"_I trust you."_

"_Okay… Pull the car over."_

Arya was practically jumping in her seat by then. Charles could sense her anticipation but couldn't make any sense of it.

The driver in the movie was equally skeptical. _"Pull the car over?"_ he said.

"_You wanna see it?"_ the passenger urged.

"_Well, show me while I'm driving."_

"_No, I can't—I can't tell you about it. It's only a couple of seconds."_

"_Alright. Two seconds, okay? What is it?"_

"_Just pull it over. I'll show you."_

"_Okay."_

Taking a large spoonful of ice cream, Arya very subtly scooted away from Charles. The better to see his face when it finally happened. In the movie, the driver pulled over at the side of the road and faced his friend.

"_Scare me,"_ he said.

The passenger looked so excited, and Arya couldn't help but to wonder whether she looked like him at that moment. _"Are you ready?"_ he asked.

"_Okay, go ahead."_

Arya wasn't even looking at the TV anymore. She was watching Charles out of the corner of her eye.

The man in the passenger seat turned away from the camera, making Charles hum thoughtfully—an attractive sound coming from the back of his throat that turned into a yelp of surprise and terror once the passenger turned around again.

As the passenger-turned-monster proceeded to attack the driver, Arya was sprawled across the pillows, shoulders trembling with the force of her laughter. "Your face!" she said into a pillow.

"What the fuck was that?" Charles practically yelled. Arya tried to shush him, she wanted to, but the profanity that left his mouth just sent her into another string of laughter. He stared at her in bewilderment. "What movie is this? What movie did you pick out?"

The narrator had been speaking, accompanied by a familiar score. And just as Charles asked his question, the narrator said, _"You've just crossed over into… The Twilight Zone."_

The movie's title screen came up, and Charles read it out loud. "The Twilight Zone," he said. "I thought that was a television series."

"They made it into a movie," Arya replied, still gasping for air.

"And you thought that it would be good for date night?" It sounded more like a statement than a question. He had crossed his arms, and there was an embarrassed flush to his cheeks.

Hastily, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his stomach. "Sorry, babe," she said in a whiny voice, earning her a raised eyebrow.

"_Babe_?"

Arya shrugged.

Sniggering, he pulled her closer to him, so that her head was resting on his shoulder, both of them resolutely staring at the television. "Come on. Let's get back to the movie."

It took them a few minutes to get back into the groove of things. Once they had established that it was an anthology type of movie, and that none of it was really connected to one another, Charles finally understood why Mr. William Connor was there and in a bar in the first place.

When the freight car containing William Connor pulled away to a concentration camp, and as the third segment began, Arya's thoughts travelled elsewhere, very far away from the movie.

She was wondering about Rob, about what he could do to help her. It was obvious that he had some sort of telepathic ability, considering their previous encounter. But it didn't seem to be like Charles' or Jean's. When he had invaded her mind, his mutation had searched for something very specific; it was almost automatic—unintentional, even.

And then there was his resilient mental wall, even thicker than Charles', and as far as Arya knew, Charles was the most talented telepath in the world.

Arya was looking forward to learning more about Rob. But in the same way, she knew that Rob was looking forward to learn more about her as well.

She was anything but willing to give away all her secrets.

An argument had erupted from the television, followed by a loud scream. Arya came back to her senses just as the character, Uncle Walt, pulled his hand out of the top hat. A large, monstrous rabbit popped out, trembling, teeth bared. Charles startled beside Arya, making her jump as well and reflexively reach for his arm.

When Anthony, the young boy who had summoned the Rabbit, finally banished it from his sight, Arya relaxed against Charles.

"Jesus," he muttered.

"You should have seen Hank's face when we first watched this," she told him. "He was scared out of his mind."

"How much longer does this go on for?"

"Just one more segment, I think."

Utter chaos had followed after Uncle Walt's "rabbit trick". Ethel's note was revealed, and Anthony threw her into the television, where a cartoon dragon chased her down and ate her; the front door opened up to a human eye; a demonic creature burst out of the television set—before finally, Helen asked Anthony to make it all disappear, which he did.

As the two of them stood in literally nowhere, speaking to each other, Arya closed her eyes. She wasn't going to sleep. She wasn't even sure if she could. But everything was just so peaceful at that moment, so perfect, that she couldn't help but to tear up a little.

She rubbed at her eyes just as the segment ended.

"I liked that ending," Charles said. "Anthony is a very… _interesting_ character, isn't he?"

"He's a potential Xavier student if ever I've seen one." Arya chuckled. "What'd you say? You wanna visit Cerebro and have a go at finding him?"

Chuckling, he shook his head. "I think Helen's got a better hold on him than I ever will."

Arya hummed thoughtfully. She wanted to argue, but the next segment had started, and she wanted Charles to watch and understand the entirety of it. Carefully, she took his spoon and empty tub of ice cream, and put it inside the grocery bag at the foot of the bed.

"Tidy," he commented, rather slyly.

She shushed him and stared pointedly at the television. He submitted himself to her silent request, but not before planting a kiss on her shoulder.

They watched as John Valentine attempted to kill the gremlin that was damaging the plane from the outside. He failed, and the creature scolded him for spoiling its fun, but it didn't kill him. The plane landed, and John was forced into a straitjacket and an ambulance.

"Oh no!" Charles said when it was shown that the man driving the ambulance was the same man from the first segment, the passenger who had turned into a monster.

"_Wanna see something _really_ scary?"_ the driver said, to which Valentine's eyes widened in fear.

They continued driving into the night, and as the scene faded out, it was accompanied by the opening monologue from the first season of the original series.

"_There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space, and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call the Twilight Zone."_

"Aaand cue credits!" said Arya, jumping out of the bed. As she was fixing up the television set, switching off anything that needed to be switched off, she glanced over at Charles with a raised eyebrow. "What'd you think of it?"

"… It was very lagging, wasn't it?"

"But it was enlightening, right?"

"I wouldn't call it that," said Charles. "I'd call it… thought-provoking. You can't help but wonder if there really is a fifth dimension out there, a _Twilight Zone_, if you want to call it that."

Arya shot back onto the bed and made it bounce. Charles bounced along with it, laughing, and she couldn't help but to smile. "I'm glad you liked it."

"Oh, I liked it alright." He raised an eyebrow and gestured for her to come closer. "But there's something that I'd like more."

He was using his bed voice—low and husky, and never failing to send warmth pooling in her stomach. All too happily, she straddled his waist and smiled in contentment when his hands came to rest on her hips.

She leaned down and kissed him, breathed in his cologne that was accompanied with a hint of chocolate and vanilla. His hands roamed, like she was a canvas and he was a master painter at work. She gave in to his movements. They made quick work of each other's clothes, and then he was inside her, making her feel so deliciously full.

Her eyes were closed tight. She was trying hard not to spontaneously combust, but she was so afraid of everything that could happen, of everything that _had_ happened; she couldn't help but to feel needy. And he felt so perfect against her, within her.

But she felt her guilt too, cold like a knife in her gut. She had to make it up to him.

"God, yes, Charles." Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. Her chest felt constricted, from the pain and the pleasure, and a lone tear escaped her cheek.

"I love you so much," he whispered into her ear. "So much… _Arya_…"

And she fell even deeper into him than before.

* * *

**[in a very small, ashamed voice] I'm aware that Apocalypse is set in 1983, and that Twilight Zone: The Movie was also released in 1983, making it quite impossible for Hank to have gotten a videotape of it so soon. But for the sake of Charya fluff, let's just overlook that little piece of poor judgment on my part, please?**

**R&amp;R! (RAK AND ROLLLLL-)**


End file.
